Whatever It Takes
by embrace-the-deception
Summary: Set in my ADKOD 'verse. After a fight with John, Dean takes Sam to look after him on his own. When Sam gets sick, Dean needs help from a kind stranger. But danger never leaves the Winchesters alone for long. Teenchester Dean 15 Autistic Sam 11 COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, this is my new story based on my A Different Kind of Different shorts. This is gonna be my little pet story, and it'll probably get updated more than some others, but I'll try my best to be fair ^^ Don't worry, I won't forget any of my other stories!**

**Sam was diagnosed as autistic when he was little. John refused to accept that Sam was different. Since then, he's treated Sam basically the same way he treats Dean. Dean's the one who has to look after Sam and make sure he's okay. But one day, after one fight too many, Dean takes Sam and runs. Dean tries his best to look after Sam, but he may need the help of a kind stranger to do it and make his relationship with his father right. But first, Dean will actually have to trust the stranger...**

**I hope you enjoy the story ^^ I appreciate helpful crit, but if you're just going to flame me, then I don't really care. Anyway, read and review, and tell me what you think! Hugs to you all!**

John swore and slammed the gun down on the table. The bang echoed through the dingy motel room, but Dean didn't flinch. He wasn't going to back down this time. He glared angrily at his father.

"Just shut up, Dean," John growled, his hand twitching over the shotgun.

"Why don't you shut up?" Dean shot back, folding his arms tightly across his chest "Why don't you think about what you're saying before you say it?"

John visibly struggled with his anger, finally managing to keep it under control. Barely. His face twisted in rage, he curled his hands into fists. Dean knew his father would never hit him, but knowing the strength that lay behind that fist made the teenager step back a pace instinctively.

"I'm the father. I'm..."

"Why don't you act like it for once?" Dean yelled, holding out his hands in a gesture of helplessness.

"Don't talk back to me!"

Dean opened his mouth to shout another retort when he heard a door open behind him. He turned to see Sam poking his head around the door, worry obvious on his face. He looked between Dean and his father, but settled on Dean.

"It's okay, Sam," Dean said, lowering his voice and forcing a smile "Go back to bed."

Sam nodded and took one more look at his father.

"Night. Love you, Daddy."

John glanced at his youngest son. The powerful anger distorted his features, and there was silence. Sam ducked back into his room with a sad look to Dean. Once the door was closed, Dean turned back to his father, all the anger returning like a storm.

"This is exactly what I mean! You can't even say 'I love you' to Sammy!"

John turned the full force of his rage-filled stare on his eldest son. Dean stared right back without looking away or flinching. Neither moved nor said anything for a few minutes, until John finally opened his mouth.

"Dean, I've just come back from a hunt. Can you please just leave me alone for a minute?"

Dean recognised the evasion tactic his father always used whenever the argument got too hard to continue. Silently, he fumed at how much of a coward his father was. He didn't want to lose the argument to his fifteen year old son, when he was supposed to know more about the world than Dean did.

John gave him a sharp look, and Dean finally relented. He didn't want to fight anymore. But he knew tomorrow would mean another fight, another argument about Sam. And the day after that. And the day after that. He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, glaring at his father.

"Whatever."

He stalked off, heading to the room he was sharing with Sam. He heard his father huff in frustration behind him, and his anger rose again. But he managed to keep it down.

Dean slipped into the room quietly, shutting the door with barely a sound. But Sam was still awake and sat on his bed. He looked at his older brother with confusion in his eyes, and Dean sighed again. He sat down next to Sam and put his arm around him. Sam leant his head against Dean's shoulder, the way he always did. It was a comforter for him, something that calmed him down. Being so close to his brother seemed to have a soothing effect on Sam. Dean rubbed his hand across the back of Sam's shoulders, and Sam closed his eyes.

"Why's Daddy mad again?" the boy asked.

Dean touched his head to Sam's, answering the question the way he always did. It always satisfied Sam.

"Because he's got a lot on his mind at the minute. He's got lots to think about. But he'll be better later."

Sam nodded slightly. Dean hugged his little brother for a moment, and Sam wrapped his arms around Dean in response. The elder smiled, then let go. Sam looked up curiously.

"Did Daddy not say 'I love you' because he was mad?" he asked.

Dean bit his lip, keeping back his rising anger. He couldn't get angry in front of Sam; he'd think it was his fault. Instead, he ruffled Sam's curly hair, making it stick up and fluffy. Sam pouted and pushed Dean's hand away.

"You'd better be careful, Sammy, or you'll get rats living in that mess," Dean smirked.

"Dean, rats don't live in hair," Sam said in a matter-of-fact tone. Dean grinned and shook his head.

"'Course they don't."

Sam smiled, and dropped his head back onto Dean's shoulder. He seemed to have forgotten about his previous question completely. Dean was neither surprised nor unhappy by that. It meant he didn't have to lie to Sam by saying 'yes'.

After a few minutes, Sam's breathing started to even out and slow. Soon, he was asleep, his head still resting on Dean's shoulder. Dean smiled slightly and gently lifted Sam up in his arms. He laid the boy down on the bed and pulled the blanket over him. Sam didn't stir, except to reach out in his sleep for something. Dean shook his head as he saw Dino on the floor. He picked up the stuffed dinosaur toy and slid it into Sam's grasping hands. Instantly, Sam pulled the toy to his chest and relaxed into deep sleep. Dean just watched him for a moment. He thought back to the fight with his father. It wasn't fair that Dad treated Sam like that. It wasn't his fault that he acted differently. But his father refused to see the problem and just pushed it aside like it didn't exist.

_But it does, Dad. It does exist and it always has. Why can't you freaking see that?_

Dean sighed and walked over to his own bed. He quickly changed into some track pants and a t-shirt before flicking the light off and sliding under the blanket. He stared at Sam across the room, his shape slowly forming in the darkness as Dean's eyes adjusted to the lack of light. Only the thin band of light from under the door lit the room, casting Sam in a slight glow on one side. Dean rolled over and stared at the ceiling. If only his father could understand what was going on.

**/\/\**

The next morning, Dean woke before anyone. He sat up slowly, to make sure he didn't wake Sam. The kid was fast asleep, clutching Dino to his chest. The blanket was half-tossed off, but he looked comfortable enough. Dean walked quietly to the door and slipped outside.

The rest of the motel room was lit only by the light from the shaded window. Dean wandered over and pulled aside the curtain, letting the morning's light stream in and bathe the room in a golden glow. Dean headed over to the cupboard and searched for something to eat. All that was left were a few Lucky Charms. He sighed and found a bowl.

"Dean?"

He turned to see Sam standing in the doorway, head slightly tilted, eyes heavy with sleep. His hair was ruffled and he rubbed his eyes. Dean smiled.

"Hey Sammy."

Sam wandered over to see what Dean was doing. When he saw the Lucky Charms box, a smile burst onto his face.

"Can I have some, Dean?" he asked, looking up at his brother with hopeful eyes.

Dean sighed, glancing from the box to his little brother. There was only enough for one bowl, and Sam had already eaten what was gone. He rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he poured out what was left into the bowl.

"Sure Sam. If you want."

As Sam sat down at the table to eat his breakfast, Dean leaned against the cupboards to watch him. There wasn't anything else in the place to eat. He'd find something later. He looked up as he heard a door opening and saw his father walking out. John looked at Sam, then Dean.

"He's eating them again?" he asked, in a tone of voice that wasn't quite pissed off, but came close.

Dean frowned, but kept calm for Sam's sake.

"Yeah. You know he likes them."

John huffed, "It's all he ever eats."

"That's what autistic kids are like, Dad," Dean said pointedly, getting his anger across the only other way he knew how; sarcasm "Maybe you should learn a little about it."

John gave his son a dark look, "Don't talk to me like that. And don't say stupid stuff like that."

"Like what?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Dean. Don't make me yell."

Dean growled, as Sam carried on eating, almost totally oblivious.

"What, that Sam's autistic? You know it's the truth, you're just too stubborn to see it."

John opened his mouth to say something when Sam looked up. He saw his father and smiled widely.

"Hey Daddy," he said cheerfully.

John glared angrily, and walked away into his room again. Dean bit back a curse and turned his attention to Sam. The younger was frowning, hurt. He looked to Dean with confusion.

"Daddy's still mad, isn't he?"

"Yeah Sam, he is," Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over his face in defeat. He pushed himself up and over to Sam.

"Come on, we gotta get ready for school," he said, waiting for Sam to finish his last mouthful.

Sam stood up and headed to his room. Dean hesitated for a moment before going for the shower. On the way, he passed his father. John looked down at him for a moment as Dean kept his eyes straight ahead. He knew if they locked eyes, there'd be an argument. It happened every time. He heard his father sigh as he passed, and Dean bit back his own frustration. It wouldn't help anything if he snapped and yelled at his father. Because it would be the millionth time he'd done so, and that was only counting since the beginning of the year. It never did a thing.

Once his father was out of sight and earshot, Dean leaned against the wall. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that his father wasn't being a father. It wasn't fair that Sam was his responsibility. It wasn't fair that Sam was autistic. And it wasn't fair that he was alone. That his father had all but given up on Sam, and his mother was long gone. Dean closed his eyes as he remembered the few snippets of memories he still had of his mother. She was beautiful, blonde with an amazing smile. She was nice as well – so nice.

Dean sighed and opened his eyes. There was no point in thinking of or wishing for something that was never going to happen.

**So what did you think? R&R!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, sorry for the huge wait between updates. I've had a lot of stuff going on lately, both with school and home. Updates on this story will probably come slowly, but I'll try my best to be regular. **

**Hope you enjoy this chapter, and please R&R! I love to hear from you guys, especially as this is a subject close to me. Hugs!**

"See ya later, Sam," Dean called as he watched his brother walk towards his class. Sam looked back and waved with a smile. Dean returned it. He waited until Sam had disappeared into the classroom before turning and racing for his own school, a few streets away. He knew he was going to be late, as always, but he didn't really care. School was a waste of time anyway.

He reached school just as the bell went. It was pretty good timing for once. He managed to get to his class along with everyone else, instead of walking in ten minutes late as he usually did. The teacher raised his eyebrow as he saw Dean walk in with the rest of the class.

"Not late today, Dean?" he asked.

Dean ignored him, and headed to his seat. Passing by the desks of some of the other guys, he heard them sniggering among themselves.

"D'you hear 'bout the retard school they set up a couple streets over?" one of them said.

"Yeah. They're all mental," said another.

Dean walked by, wishing he could kick the shit out of them. But he didn't; he went to his seat and sat down. He paid no attention as the teacher started the lesson. He instead stared intensely at the group of guys, wondering if they would act on their obviously anti-disabled thoughts. He hoped not, for their sakes.

The day sped by in a blur of colour, boredom and rambling words. By the time the final bell rang, Dean wasn't sure if he'd actually picked up anything that anyone had said. It was all just a swirl of nothing. He raced out of the class before anyone else had even stood up, and ran for the gate. He wanted to get to Sam as quickly as possible. He'd learned the lesson of leaving Sam alone after school for even five minutes.

By the time he reached Sam's school, most of the kids had already left and gone home. Sam was there, waiting out the front as he always did. When he saw his brother, a smile lit up his face and he ran over.

"Dean!" he said, running into a hug.

Dean hugged him back and smiled.

"You have a good day?" he asked.

Sam nodded. He never really said much more than that on the subject of school. Dean shrugged and the pair headed off down the street.

After a few minutes of silence, Sam looked up at his older brother questioningly.

"Dean, why do we have to keep moving?"

Dean bit his lip and looked down at his little brother. Sam had asked him this before, but he'd managed to distract him with something else to talk about. Now, there didn't seem to be anything else to  
use. He was stuck.

"Uh...well...Dad has to work, and his work means we have to move around a lot."

Sam paused, looking thoughtful, apparently satisfied. Then he asked, "What does Dad do?"

"Look, Sammy, when you're big enough, I'll tell you, okay?"

Sam huffed, "You never tell me anything."

Dean didn't answer that, because there wasn't really anything he could say. It was true. A lot of the time, he made sure Sam stayed in the dark on subjects like hunting and his mother. He knew Sam wasn't ready to find those things out yet.

**/\/\**

"We're home!" Dean called, wondering where his father was. He knew he was here; the Impala was still out the front. But there was no reply to his call. He shut the door behind Sam, who ran straight for his room. Dean dumped his bag by the door and went in search of his father.

He found him in his room, books and papers spread out everywhere. He looked up as Dean knocked to announce his presence. He gave his son a small smile.

"You're home. How was school?"

"Alright. Same as always. What're you doing?" Dean asked, curious. His father hadn't told him what they were in town for – only that it was a hunt. That was the only reason they went anywhere.

"Trying to find out where this werewolf lives. It's somewhere in this area," John said, gesturing to the map of the town spread out in front of him.

Dean nodded, wishing he could go with his father to hunt down the monster. But he couldn't, because he had to stay and look after Sam. And since Sam wasn't going on hunts any time soon, he wondered if he would ever get to hunt with his father.

As if on cue, Sam poked his head around the door. He smiled as he saw his father and brother.

"Hi Daddy! Dean, can I have some Lucky Charms?"

John rolled his eyes, and sighed under his breath. Dean resisted the urge to glare at him, because he knew it would only end in another fight, and he didn't want to argue in front of Sam. Instead, he turned to Sam and smiled, nodding.

"Okay. Fine. I'll go find them."

He followed Sam to the kitchen and started looking through the cupboards for anything. He suddenly remembered that the last of them had been used up this morning by his little brother. He sighed and stood up, facing Sam.

"There aren't any left. I'll have to go get some."

Sam nodded with a sigh, and Dean went back to his father to ask for some money. He wondered how his father would react.

"Dad? I need some money to go buy some stuff."

John sighed and nodded, "Whatever. But you can't keep indulging him, Dean."

Dean narrowed his eyes and turned away, growling quietly. Why couldn't his father realise that what was wrong with Sam wasn't something he could change? It wasn't his fault. He couldn't help it. He'd told his father that a million times, but it never made a difference. Nothing seemed to get through that thick head of his. He was just stubborn – a Winchester.

As he grabbed the cash from his father's jacket, Sam followed him, eyes curious and hopeful.

"Can I come?"

Dean paused, thinking. If he took Sam with him, it would make the journey twice as long, and it was already a twenty minute round trip. But if he left Sam with his father, it could have extremely dangerous consequences. He wasn't sure he wanted to take the chance. But night was falling, and walking for nearly an hour wasn't really on his to do list at that moment. He sighed, and bent down to Sam's level. It wasn't far, as Sam was relatively tall for his age.

"Sam, can you do something for me?"

Sam nodded eagerly, and Dean smiled, "I need you to stay here. I won't be long. But I want you to stay in your room, and don't annoy Dad, okay?"

Sam pouted, a little upset, but nodded. He glanced back at the door to his father's room, then back to his brother with concern shining in his eyes.

"Is Daddy still mad?"

"Yeah. A little. Just stay in your room until I get back, okay? Can you promise me that?"

Sam nodded. Dean stood up, ruffling Sam's hair affectionately. Sam frowned and pushed Dean away with a small yelp. Dean laughed quietly.

"I'll be back soon, okay?"

Sam nodded quickly and ran to his room. Dean waited until he'd heard the door shut before he left the motel room, and headed for the shop.

**/\/\**

Walking home, his hands full with bags of food, Dean wondered if Sam had done as he'd been told. There were times when he totally ignored whatever someone told him, and did his own thing. It hadn't ended well the last time. He hoped Sam had stayed quiet and away from their father – he wasn't sure if it would end any better than it had last time.

He approached the motel door, passing the Impala. He couldn't hear any shouting or yelling. That was always a good sign. He unlocked the door, juggling the bags, and walked inside. He shut the door behind him, waiting for Sam to come running out and ask for his Lucky Charms. But he didn't come. Dean put the bags down in the kitchen and walked towards the room they shared, dread-filled curiosity washing over him.

He paused outside the door, listening carefully in the silence. And, breaking the silence, was the sound of his little brother crying.


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm really spoiling you guys, aren't I? Another chapter so quickly? XD **

**I decided I couldn't keep the reason for Sammy crying from you for much longer, and I had written chapters two and three in one go, so here it is! Enjoy the anger!**

Dean opened the door quickly and looked around for Sam. He didn't have to look hard. Sam was curled up on the bed, hugging something close to his chest, crying his eyes out. Dean ran over and knelt at the side of the bed, shocked.

"Sammy? What happened? Sam?"

The boy choked back a sob and looked up at his older brother. His eyes still shone with tears, and there was such innocence on his face that Dean made the mental note to bash the shit out of whoever had made his Sammy cry.

"What happened?"

Sam opened his mouth to say, but all that came out were stuttered sounds that barely made sense over his crying.

"Da...sh...di...ma...me..."

"Sam, calm down. Breathe," Dean said as he realised Sam was trying to hold back more tears.

He waited as Sam took a deep breath, getting some control back. It took a moment, but once he was relatively calm, he looked at Dean again, the unshed tears still glistening in his eyes. He sat up and instead of telling Dean, he held out what was in his hands.

Dean stared in shock at what Sam was holding. He took it carefully. Stunned didn't begin to cover it. The small, green, battered dinosaur that Sam had had since he was four was more battered than usual. Tattered stuffing was falling from a large hole in its side that went straight through its body to the other side. Dean could smell the faint odour of gunpowder.

"What..."

Sam repeated what he'd been trying to say before, "Daddy shot Dino. He... he got mad at me."

Dean wondered if the cliché of seeing red was true. Because if it was, then crimson and blood was all he could see at that moment. Fury blazed through him at his father's actions. John had actually pulled out a gun in front of Sam. It could have gone a very different way. Dean knew his father too well. He knew it could be his little brother lying on the floor with the hole in his chest instead of the dinosaur. But his father knew just how much Sam loved that thing. And he'd gone and done something so inexcusable...

There was nothing his father could say now that would satisfy Dean. He stood up, handing the ruined toy back to Sam. The younger watched his brother walk quietly from the room, his face blank, fingers curling into fists, trying his best to quell the raging storm of fury inside him.

"What the fuck, Dad."

It wasn't a question. John looked up as he heard his son speak. He saw the blanketed rage, the boiling fury waiting to be released at John's next words. He stood up to face his son, ready for the onslaught he knew was coming.

"What?"

He could have picked something a little better to say, Dean thought venomously as he opened his mouth to reply. He wasn't an idiot.

"How could you do that to him?" Dean was proud of how controlled he was keeping his voice.

"I told him to go away. I told him to leave me alone, and he didn't."

"You fucking shot his toy. What the hell is wrong with you?" Dean yelled.

John stood his ground, unflinching. Dean didn't move either, just stood there as he waited for his father's response, the hatred glittering in his eyes.

"Don't speak to me like that, son," John said quietly, determined not to be brought down by his son, not to be beaten and not to be proven wrong. Because he wasn't, was he? Dean needed to see that.

"I'm going to speak to you however I damn well feel like," Dean said, his voice dark and low, threatening and daring John to reprimand him for him. Inviting him.

"How dare you..."

"Excuse me? How dare you!" Dean exploded "You pulled out a gun and shot something in front of Sam! Tell me, how close were you to shooting Sam?"

John growled, and took a step towards his son. Dean didn't flinch, nor back down. He remained still, glaring, filling his gaze with every negative emotion he had in him at that moment. John swore.

"You weren't there, Dean. Don't judge me."

"You're lucky I wasn't there. Because if I was, I would have turned that gun on you and shot you myself. I would have had no hesitation."

"Don't say such ridiculous things..."

"Really? Look at me and tell me I'm not serious. You hurt Sam, Dad. You hurt him, and you could have killed him. He's you're fucking son, for crying out loud. Don't you care about him? Don't you care  
about either of us?" Dean's voice was at that deadly low volume that spoke more than the words did. That told John exactly what he thought of his father better than any sentence could.

"Of course I care about you. But when are you going to realise that there isn't anything wrong with him?"

"Dad, Sam's not the only one with problems. You've got them too. You so blind, you can't see the truth right in front of your eyes. You wouldn't know if it came and bit you on the ass. Do you have any  
idea what that does to Sam? He thinks you still love him, but I know the truth. I'm keeping it from him because I can't see the look on his face when he realises his father hates him. I can't do that. I'm  
not a bastard, like you."

Dean was stepping ever closer to the line where John would snap. He knew that, and he was waiting for it. Because that was when John would say what he really thought. That was when he would speak with no thought for consequences, no thought for the repercussions of the words he spoke.

"I won't tolerate you speaking to me like that," John said lowly, stepping closer again. Dean spread out his arms invitingly.

"Go on Dad, hit me. I know you want to. Or better yet, shoot me. I'm sure that's what you really want to do."

"Don't be stupid."

"No, because that's what you want to do to Sam. You want him dead. You love him so much you want him six feet under with Mum."

John reacted before he realised what the hell he was doing. His hand had reached out and backhanded his son across the face before he could comprehend what his brain was telling him. It was all over so fast. He stared as Dean staggered backwards under the force, a hand to his cheek. He glared daggers at his father, each one stabbing into him a thousand times over with hatred and pure rage.

"That's what I thought. Well, don't worry. You won't have to worry about Sam anymore. Or me."

With that, Dean walked out of the room, leaving John standing alone wondering what in the name of God he'd just said and done.

Dean stalked back to his room, where Sam was waiting on the bed, still clutching Dino. He tried to calm himself as he walked in, but he just couldn't. All the rage and frustration had risen up and officially exploded like a volcano. He moved to grab his bag from the floor as Sam looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and fear.

"What's going on?" he asked, the slight hitch of tears still in his voice.

"Get your bag. Quick."

Sam scrambled off the bag, knowing not to ask Dean why. Not when he looked so angry, when he looked so... dangerous. He heaved the bag over his shoulder as Dean walked from the room, calling for Sam to follow. He stumbled after him, the bag weighing him down.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" John roared as Dean rifled through the man's jacket hanging over the back of the chair.

Dean didn't answer. Sam stopped beside him, glancing from his brother to his father, who had just appeared in the doorway looking angrier than Dean.

The teenager spun to face his father, spitting out his words like they were poison, "Wherever you can't hurt us anymore. Somewhere away from you. Somewhere safe."

John stared, gobsmacked. Dean pocketed the money he'd just taken from his father's jacket and headed for the door, grabbing Sam's hand.

"If you walk out that door, don't expect me to come and get you when it gets too tough," John warned, hoping his threat was sufficient enough to stop his boys from leaving.

"That's what I was hoping."

Dean pushed Sam through the door, then paused, turning back to his father one last time. John was surprised at the controlled expression he was wearing. Dean showed no hint of emotion as he spoke his next words, the words that would sear themselves into his brain for the rest of his life.

"I swear to God, if you try and get us back before you've changed, I will make sure you can never hurt us again. And that's a promise."

The door slammed, and the boys were gone.

**/\/\**

"Come on Sam," Dean mumbled, dragging his little brother behind him.

"Dean, where are we going?"

Dean looked down at Sam for a moment without pausing in his fast walk. The look in his eyes scared Sam – it was anger, hate, worry, fear, loss and other emotions he didn't know and had never seen before.

"Somewhere safe. A place where it's just you and me, with no angry Dad."

Sam nodded and followed Dean down the street. Not that he had a choice. Dean had a firm grip of his wrist and was pulling him along. He looked around. No one really seemed to notice what was going on, but a few people did stop and glance at the two boys. One of them whispered something to their friend, and the pair looked concerned. Sam looked back to Dean again, hoping that wherever they were going wasn't very far. His wrist hurt, and his bag was heavy on his back, dragging him down.

His wish was granted, as a few minutes later, Dean started to slow down. He stopped finally, and ruffled Sam's hair. For once, Sam didn't respond with his usual pout, shove and grumble. He just let Dean do his thing, happy that they had stopped.

"I'm sorry, Sammy."

"Why?" Sam asked, curious. He shifted his hand so that he was holding Dean's, instead of his brother gripping his wrist. Dean looked down at him with a sad half-smile.

"We're going somewhere far away. It's gonna be hard, okay? You're gonna have to listen to me, and always do as I say. Can you promise me that? I need you to promise me, because if you don't listen to me, you could get hurt. Really bad."

Sam paused, thinking. He was sure that by breaking his promise to Dean earlier had led to the loud yelling between his father and brother. He didn't want something like that to happen again. And he didn't want to get hurt. Dean knew best, and he felt bad for going against his promise before.

"I promise."

"Truly?"

"Pinky promise," Sam let go of Dean's hand and held out his own, giving his brother a smile.

Dean laughed and completed the promise, twisting his little finger around Sam's. That was when he noticed Sam was still carrying his mutilated dinosaur. He shook his head. Even shot and torn apart, Sam still wouldn't let it go.

"Come on, we've got somewhere to be."

**It's probably moving very fast, but I don't see the point in rambling on about nothing when there's a story to be written! Please, R&R!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Phew, this has taken forever to write! It's a little short, but I hope it keeps you readers interested a little longer until I can get a good chapter in after my exams next week (wow that was a long sentence :P) Enjoy!**

The pair walked down the street together, Sam's hand in Dean's, the hustle and bustle of the town life around them ringing in Dean's ears as he listened for the slightest sound of trouble. It was an old habit that was hard to break, but he knew he couldn't afford to lose his hunter's senses. He'd be living rough with Sam, having to make sure he was always safe. He had to always be on the lookout from now on – if he slipped up for just a second, it could result in something worse than a few werewolf scratches or a dislocated shoulder.

A few minutes later, the two reached their destination. Sam looked around, slightly confused.

"Where are we going?" he asked as Dean stopped at the bus stop and glanced at the timetable tacked to the wall.

"I don't know yet."

Dean skimmed the timetable. There was half an hour until the next bus came, the one that went out of town. He sighed and sat down, dropping his bag by his feet. Sam sat beside him, kicking his bag under the seat and looking over to his older brother.

"Dean..."

The elder flicked a tired glance over to Sam. The kid was looking at him with his head tilted in contemplation and curiosity. There was a moment of silence between them before anyone spoke.

"Are we going to Bobby's?"

Dean shook his head, "No, Sammy. I'd like to, but we can't." He knew it would be the first place his father called, and he wasn't a hundred percent sure that Bobby wouldn't give them up. He was a great guy, sure, and he understood Sam's condition, but when faced with the question of giving the boys back to their father or keeping them separated... Dean didn't want to take that chance. He'd promised to keep Sam safe, and that's what he would do.

"Where _are_ we going then?"

Dean rolled his eyes, "I already told you. I don't know."

**/\/\**

John stared at the door for the next ten minutes before he felt he could move. When he finally relaxed his muscles, he turned away and ran his hand through his hair. The sting of Dean's words still shuddered through him; he wouldn't forget them in a hurry. The look on his face though, had been one of pure hatred. John shook his head – he couldn't believe it. Wouldn't. Dean didn't hate him. He was just angry. The boys would be back by the end of the week. He was sure of it.

**/\/\**

"Dean, there's the bus!" Sam said, pointing over his brother's shoulder with a smile.

Dean looked up and in the direction Sam was gesturing. Indeed, the big blue and white bus, spattered with mud along the bottom, was heading towards them and starting to slow. Once it had stopped outside the bus stop, the doors swung open. Dean grabbed his bag and stepped onto the first step, looking back to see Sam collecting his own bag and following him. Dean faced the driver, a big hairy man that reminded the boy of a gorilla in clothing. He covered a grin as the man grunted out a barely comprehensible number which Dean assumed was the price for the ride. He fished out the money he'd taken from his father and gave it to the man. He headed down the aisle, Sam's hand tightly in his, and found some seats towards the back, lonesome and secluded. They stowed their bags above them, Dean helping Sam push his up. He let Sam take the window seat – it was his favourite, and more protected from others.

"We might be on the road for a couple hours," Dean whispered to Sam, who leaned his head against the window with a small, satisfied smile.

Sam yawned, "M-kay."

Dean just smiled, and put an arm around his brother's shoulders. Sam didn't seem to mind too much for once, and didn't move. He was content to watch the world go by through the window as the bus started up again and moved away.

Dean watched too as the bus made its way out of town. He sighed as he wondered what his father was doing. But he steeled himself, shaking his head. He wasn't going to think about him anymore, and he wasn't going to look back.

**/\/\**

It took an hour for the reality to sink in, for it to finally get through his skull and into his brain.

His kids were gone.

Swearing, John landed a punch to the wall. What would Mary say if she were still here? He wouldn't be in this problem if she were still around, John thought bitterly, if she hadn't have died all those years ago in Sam's nursery.  
He had no idea where his boys were, he didn't know if they were safe – he didn't know if they were even in town anymore. Knowing Dean as well as he did, he was sure the pair would have skipped town by now. They'd be on route to somewhere John would never think to look.

He grabbed the phone, dialling his son's number. He waited for a few minutes as it rang, but there was no answer. He sighed irritably as the call rang out and all he got was a series of beeps and a message from Dean.

_Dean. Just leave a message, I guess._

He ended the call and stared at his phone for a moment. He wondered if Dean had actually thought of answering, if he'd stared at the phone the same way he was staring at his own now. He shook his head and dialled another number. This time someone picked up on the third ring.

"Hello?"

"Bobby, I need your help."

There was a long sigh, before Bobby eventually replied, "What have you done now?"

John hesitated, knowing Bobby was one of his closest friends, but still not sure if the man would judge him or not for what he had done, "The boys are gone."

That got Bobby's attention. John heard something crash in the background and Bobby swore. "What the hell, John? What do you mean they're gone?"

"Dean ran away and took Sam with him," John said "I don't know where they are. Have they called you?"

"No. Why'd he run?"

John paused. He wasn't sure he wanted Bobby to know the true reason. Perhaps if he lied... no, Bobby would know and would want to find out the real cause even more. He tried a different tactic instead.

"Dean and I had a fight..."

Bobby didn't reply for a long time. John waited nervously (although he would never admit that to himself) as he heard his friend's muttered-aloud thoughts, muffled by distance between him and the phone. At last, Bobby spoke.

"Why'd he take Sam with him?"

John sighed, though he wasn't sure if it were relief that Bobby had apparently believed him or confusion as to his own involvement in his sons' disappearance, "He wanted to keep him safe, I guess."

"From you?" Bobby sounded doubtful, suspicious. John could almost imagine a raised eyebrow. He knew that Bobby hadn't believed a word he'd said.

"This is about his autism, right?"

"There's nothing wrong with my son!" John yelled down the phone, his anger rising again as dangerously as it had just hours ago. He heard Bobby's sharp intake of breath and that was all he needed to fall from his height of anger and down to deep embarrassment and regret.

"Look, Bobby," John said, running a hand through his hair "I just want you to tell me if they call or turn up, okay?"

"I'm sorry John," Bobby said "But I can't do that."

John was stunned. His closest friend, his ally, was backing down and leaving him to fight this battle alone? He was being shunned, pushed away by the one he had battled alongside for years?

"If you insist on Sam being normal, then I can't help you. I care about those kids, and I ain't gonna hand them back over to you if you're just gonna lose them again," Bobby continued.

John was silent as Bobby's words rang through his head, just as Dean's words had done before he had slammed the door in his face. They hung in the air like smoke, and John barely heard Bobby say a quick good bye before hanging up. All he heard was a dull dial tone and the words repeating themselves over and over again in his head.

He put the phone down on the table, eyes blank and unseeing. Everyone he was close to was leaving him, abandoning him. It seemed to be a trait in the Winchester men to have the ones closest to him disappear like leaves in an autumn wind.

**/\/\**

As he stared out of the grimy window past Sam's head on his shoulder, Dean felt a buzzing in his pocket. He shifted, pulling out his mobile and glancing at it. The caller ID said it was his father calling him. He gazed blankly at it as it vibrated, wondering whether to pick up or not. He loved his father, and didn't want to fight like that and always be at war. But his brother was also as important and when it came to his safety or his father's feelings, it was obvious in his heart which path he would choose.

He waited until the call rang out before sliding it back into his pocket. He let his mind drift to thoughts of what his father might be doing at that moment whilst Sam drifted off as well, but into relaxed, peaceful sleep.

**So, what do you think? Please review, I love them all. It makes me happy when I get to see that someone has taken the time to tell me what they think of my story. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for the huge wait between updates, I haven't really been inspired to write much Supernatural until I kicked myself into writing Everything Has Its Price. So now I'm back on this, and I hope the updates will come quicker this time! Please R&R!**

**Oh, and Niamh is an Irish name (I love it to death) which is pronounced Neeve**

The last week could have gone better. It could have gone much, much better.

Dean sighed in frustration, beating the back of his head against the wall a few times. His eyes closed as he sat leaning against the wall, he let his mind wander to the events of the past week and how just about everything went horribly wrong.

They were living off what Dean could beg, borrow or steal (usually the latter). Food was crap, to say the least, and Sam was hungry, grumpy and tired. He wanted to go home, but Dean continued to hold out. He wasn't going back. He was going to figure this mess out and get the two of them back on their feet. He'd been looking for a job, anything, but no one seemed to want a fifteen year old who looked like he'd been dragged up in some back alley. They'd looked at him with sympathy, but after a week he was still left with nothing.

Just two nights ago they'd had a run-in with some kid's gang, a bunch of teenagers with motorbikes who thought they were tough. Dean had scared them off with the small pistol he kept tucked in the back of his jeans, but he knew they'd be back. He was good, but no match for six or seven at once.

And now Sam was sick. It seemed to be the flu, but Sam was miserable. The kid kept to himself, curled up in a corner when Dean left him for a few moments, sniffling and sneezing. And with winter approaching, Dean knew he had to find somewhere they could stay.

But apparently there was no one in Angel without a conscience who would allow two young kids a place to stay. They were always questioning, always asking about Sam, and did their parents know where they were. Dean had almost given up, but he knew he couldn't, for Sammy's sake. He had to look after his little brother. That was his job, and he would do anything to protect him.

Sam's coughing startled Dean into opening his eyes, and he cursed himself for not paying attention. Anything could have happened while he'd zoned out. He scrambled to his feet and jogged over to where Sam was curled up tightly, coughing.

"Sammy?"

The kid looked up, and Dean gave him a sympathetic smile. He looked terrible, but there was nothing he could do about it. Maybe if he raided someplace, he could get some medicine...

"Hey, you kids alright?"

Dean spun around, his hand already moving to grab his pistol. A few feet away stood a young man, maybe in his early twenties. He was looking at them with worried blue eyes, brushing dark hair away from his face.

Dean hesitated. Maybe if he scared the guy with the gun, he could get some money and buy some medicine or food, and maybe Sammy would eat something and maybe he would be okay...  
He was torn. Part of him was screaming at him for even considering doing something so stupid. What would his dad say if he found out his son was mugging people? On the other hand, another part was screaming at him to do it, do it for Sammy. Sam needed medicine, he was sick, he had to eat, he hadn't eaten for three days and he was sick, and...

His fingers brushed the butt of the pistol and he stopped once again. He couldn't do it. Yes he could. His mind wasn't shutting up, and the guy was looking at him weirdly now...

Sam coughed, a harsh hacking cough that sent shudders through his body. Dean's mind was made up. He pulled out the pistol just as the young man was turning away. The older froze, staring at the pistol and then at the kid holding it, as if he couldn't believe he was being held up by a desperate teenager.

He held up his hands, backing away a step but not daring to go any further.

"Woah, calm down, okay? Look, what do you want?"

"Money," Dean managed to say as Sam looked up at him with confusion, glancing between his brother and the guy he was aiming the gun at.

The older nodded and reached down to his jean's pocket slowly. He kept his eyes on Dean as he pulled out his wallet and tossed it over.

"Here. That's all I've got."

Dean blinked, pausing for a moment before suddenly saying, "Get out of here."

The man backed away slowly until he figured he was at a safe distance, before turning and running. Dean shoved the gun back into the back of his jeans and grabbed the wallet from the ground. He flipped it open to reveal four dollars and a couple of credit cards. Dean stared at it. So he'd held up that guy for nothing.

He glanced at the driver's license. The blue-eyed man stared at him, his name in black beside his picture. Jimmy Novak.

"Sorry Jimmy," Dean whispered, closing the wallet and turning to Sam.

**/\/\**

Jimmy ran all the way home, and was out of breath by the time he reached his front door. He only lived the next street over and never in his life had he thought he'd be held up on his way home from work. He glanced over his shoulder as he reached for his keys, berating himself for his worry. The kid wasn't going to follow him.

Jimmy unlocked the door and slammed it shut behind him, sighing as he leaned against the door. A voice called out from the hall, and a young woman with grey-green eyes walked towards him, confused.

"Hey Jimmy, what's the matter?" she asked as she reached him, taking in his breathless pants and worried expression "What happened?"

"I just had a gun pointed at me by a crazy teenager, that's what happened," Jimmy said as he pushed himself off the door. The woman frowned and followed him.

"What?" she put a hand on his shoulder "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Niamh. I handed over my wallet and he let me go."

Niamh stopped as Jimmy grabbed an apple from the kitchen. He bit into it, shrugging. Niamh put her hands on her hips and sighed.

"Jimmy, he could have killed you!"

The man shook his head and swallowed, "I don't think he would have. He was just scared. Besides, he had a little kid with him, he wouldn't have shot me in front of him."

"And how do you know that?" Niamh demanded, worried for her housemate's safety and possibly his sanity.

"I saw it in his eyes."

**/\/\**

John was really starting to panic now. A week had gone by without a sign of either of his boys. They just seemed to have vanished into thin air. He knew Dean was smart – he was amazing at hiding, sneaking around and generally being able to disappear at an opportune moment – but John had always been able to find Dean when he had to. He always knew where to look if Dean was avoiding him. If he told Dean to hide during a hunt, he always knew where Dean would be. But for once in his life, his boy was like a ghost – invisible.

He felt like banging his head against the steering wheel, but he figured it wasn't the greatest idea. And it wouldn't solve anything. It'd just make his head hurt more than it already did. And that was saying something, because at the moment he had the mother of all headaches. He kept his eyes on the road, gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles were white, his jaw tense. Five towns and still nothing. He was going to go crazy if he didn't find the boys soon.

He shot a glance to the dashboard, where a battered old photo sat, flapping in the wind rushing in from the open window. Sam was only a baby, Dean holding on to the wriggling kid with a massive grin. It'd been taken just a few days before the fire, before everything had changed. And then, there had been no sign of anything wrong. Not with Sam, not with any of them. Everything had been perfect.

John looked away from the two giggling kids with a pained sigh. He was going to find them, no matter how long it took. But Dean's words continued to run through his head every waking moment.

"_You're lucky I wasn't there. Because if I was, I would have turned that gun on you and shot you myself. I would have had no hesitation."_

"_Dad, Sam's not the only one with problems. You've got them too. You so blind, you can't see the truth right in front of your eyes. You wouldn't know if it came and bit you on the ass._

"_I swear to God, if you try and get us back before you've changed, I will make sure you can never hurt us again. And that's a promise."_


	6. Chapter 6

**Another chapter, this time a longer one ^^ Hope you're still liking this! **

With the money from Jimmy's wallet, Dean had managed to get a couple of chocolate bars. It wasn't much, but he hoped Sam would at least eat part of one. It'd give him some energy to fight off the illness that was making him miserable.

"Come on, Sam."

Sam looked up. He was hunched against a cold concrete wall, knees against his chest and skinny arms wrapped around them tightly. His clothes were filthy, his pants shredded at the knees. The grimy t-shirt wasn't doing much to keep him warm, and a biting wind was blowing. The first signs of winter.

He reached out and took the chocolate from Dean's hand. The older smiled slightly as Sam shoved it in his mouth all at once. If there was one thing you could always get Sam to eat, it was chocolate. The kid loved that stuff. It was gone in seconds with nothing left at all.

Dean ate his a little slower, and winced as Sam coughed harshly. It sounded as if he were trying to cough his lungs out of his chest. The fit lasted only a few seconds, but it started up again a minute later. On and off he continued, shaking in the cold. Dean shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around his brother, huddling in closer to him and putting an arm around his shoulders. Sam leaned his head on Dean's shoulder, eyes closed. Dean bit his lip.

"Dean," Sam rasped, his voice croaky and edged with sickness.

"Yeah?"

"I wanna go home. I'm cold."

Dean hugged him tighter, swallowing, "I know. But we can't. Not yet."

"Why not?" his voice rose in pitch as he whined.

"Sam, you promised you'd listen to me. Just be quiet and get better, okay?"

The boy huffed and there was a moment of silence, which lasted only until Sam hacked out another fit of coughing. As the sun began to start its journey to the horizon, Dean wondered if Sam was going to be okay.

**/\/\**

Dean started awake with Sam's cough in the background. His brother was trying to say something through his fit, and Dean had to listen carefully for a moment before he understood.

"S-s-s-someone th-there."

Dean scrambled to his feet, cursing himself violently for not watching over his brother. His hand reached for the pistol in the back of his jeans, the darkness obscuring most of his vision. He saw movement in front of him, about ten paces away, and a voice called out.

"Woah, calm down. Don't shoot."

He recognised the voice. It was the same guy he'd held up – Jimmy Novak. What the hell was that idiot doing back here, at the far end of some dark back alley? He aimed the pistol at the shadowy figure that was standing ahead of him. Jimmy had his hands up and out in surrender, just visible in the darkness.

"What do you want?" Dean kept his tone low.

"I was walking home from work, I heard the little guy coughing. I was just worried."

The boy frowned, slightly confused by the turn of events. This Jimmy was worried about Sam, after he'd robbed the guy only the day before? That is, if he wasn't lying and was actually a threat to his little brother. Much more likely. Not that he was a real threat – Dean knew he could take Novak out easily.

"He sounds really bad. I could help him..." Jimmy's voice trailed off.

Dean hesitated, then shook his head. Yeah right. He was probably a slimy little bastard that just wanted to get his hands on his Sammy. No one touched his Sammy. No one got close enough to do so.

"Get the hell out of here," Dean growled savagely, jerking the pistol in his hand. For once, Jimmy didn't move.

"He needs help – he's sick. I can't walk away from here knowing that. Please, just let me help him. Let me help both of you."

Sam moaned in pain from behind his brother, "Deeeaaan, my head hurts."

Dean opened his mouth to tell Jimmy to leave before he found himself with a bullet in his brain, but stopped. Sam's plaintive plea resounded in his head, made him think twice about what he was doing.

Sam needed help. There were no ifs or buts about it. Dean had no idea if Sam was going to get better any time soon – he'd been sick for days. It could be something really wrong with him.

But, Dean argued with himself, this guy could just be some pervert or something. Who knew his real intentions for coming here? He couldn't risk that something would happen to his Sammy.

He raged for a moment, one side then the next, and eventually coming to a decision. But as he spoke, it tore the heart out of him. Both options were bad, but he had to choose. He hoped he'd picked the right one.

"You... you wanna help him?" he said quietly.

"Yes."

He bit his lip. There was no going back now.

"O...okay."

He pulled Sam to his feet, the kid keeping quiet. He slipped one hand into Dean's free one, gripping it tightly as he almost doubled over with another coughing fit. The pair followed Jimmy out of the alley, Dean cautious and never letting his guard down. He kept the pistol held out, aimed in Novak's general direction. Once they hit the street, the streetlights lit up the three figures. Dean glanced over at Jimmy, meeting the taller man's eyes. He tensed his jaw when he saw nothing sinister whatsoever in the blue gaze, just pure and simple compassion. The man's hand shifted slightly towards Sam and Dean snapped into action. The muzzle of the pistol landed only an inch away from Jimmy's head and the pair stared each other down, motionless.

"Touch him, and I'll blow your brains out."

Jimmy straightened, blinking. Sam's fingers tightened as he looked at Jimmy from behind his brother, dark eyes wide and red-rimmed. No one moved in the silence, each one wondering who was going to shift first.

It turned out to be Jimmy. The man gestured for the brothers to follow him as he turned to walk down the street. Dean stayed still for a moment, wondering if he was doing the right thing.

It was too late now, so he started after Jimmy, Sam's hand tight in his own.

It only took a few minutes to reach Novak's house. It was small, nestled in between two larger, more expensive places. Jimmy led the boys up the path to the door and unlocked it. He stepped inside and paused, waiting for the two to follow.  
Dean hesitated. It was all going too far, too fast. Saying yes had been one thing, but going inside the stranger's house when (as much as he hated to admit it) the two of them were vulnerable? He still wasn't sure what he was doing, but then Sam's small voice broke out.

"Dean," he whispered.

The teenager looked down, "Yeah?"

"I'm cold."

He bit his lip, before taking a tentative step forward, the gun still gripped in his tense hand by his side. Jimmy shut the door quietly behind the boys and flicked on a light. As he did, a female voice called out.

"Jimmy, that you? They keep you back late again?"

Dean froze as a young woman poked her head around the door. She wore purple pyjama pants and a white tank top. Pale red hair, more of a light orange than anything else, hung around her shoulders in slight waves, and grey-green eyes stared at the three standing by the front door.

"Jimmy, what the hell is going on?" she asked, her eyes widening as she saw the pistol in Dean's hand.

"They needed help. The little one's sick. I couldn't leave them out there."

"He has a gun," she stated needlessly.

Jimmy glanced at Dean, flicking his gaze from the gun to the boy's face. Dean swallowed, unwilling to put away his best defence. He looked between Jimmy and the unknown woman, debating. In the end, he slowly slid the gun into its place in the back of his jeans. But he kept his hand close to it, ready to draw it at a moment's notice.

Sam coughed harshly, and Jimmy looked at the woman pointedly, "Niamh..."

"Shut up," she muttered as she walked out hesitantly. She skirted Dean nervously, stepping past him to be closer to Sam. He shrunk back against Dean as Niamh bent down to his level.

"Hi. I'm Niamh. What..."

"You have a funny name."

Dean bit back a smile as Sam spoke matter-of-factly. Niamh was silent for a moment, her mouth in a small 'O', before she smiled.

"Yeah, people have said that. I guess it is, a little," she chuckled "What's your name?"

Sam shot a look to Dean, eyes asking. The older nodded.

"Sam."

"Nice to meet you, Sam."

Before the kid could respond, he coughed again, shielding his mouth with his arm. Niamh frowned, her fear vanishing as she put a hand on Sam's shoulder. Dean fought the urge to backhand her across the face for touching his brother.

"You don't sound so good. Come on."

She stood up and held out her hand, a small smile on her face. Sam took her hand without hesitation and she led Sam through the door she'd just come through. Jimmy and Dean exchanged glances, each hesitant and each wondering if they could really trust the other. Neither said anything, and Dean followed his brother and Niamh before Jimmy could speak.

Niamh was setting Sam up to sleep on the couch in the living room, talking and laughing quietly with him. Dean couldn't help but be a little jealous of how easily she looked after Sam and kept him happy despite his illness. Sam was smiling – he hadn't done that since they had left their father a week ago.

"Jimmy, can you get some more blankets?" Niamh asked over her shoulder, and the man nodded, disappearing to complete his task. Dean stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, staring at Niamh and his brother. The woman seemed to sense his discomfort and turned around, looking up at him from her position on her knees by the couch. She gave him a tentative smile and Dean walked over slowly, sitting down beside her as close to Sam as he could.

"What's that?" Niamh asked, gesturing to the battered, broken Dino clutched in Sam's hands.

The kid pulled it away from her hand, "It's mine."

"He doesn't trust anyone with it," Dean said quietly, and Niamh glanced at him before nodding.

Jimmy returned with a handful of blankets which Niamh settled over Sam. Now it was Jimmy's turn to stand behind the others, uncomfortable.

"I got something for his headache," he offered, and Dean glanced at the packet of pills in his hand. He shook his head.

"Sam won't take pills," he muttered.

As if on cue, Sam piped up, "No, yuck!"

"Well, you're going to have to go to sleep then, Sammy," Dean said to his little brother, sliding up onto the couch next to him. Sam snuggled up to his side and rested his head on Dean's shoulder. He coughed.

"My head hurts," he complained.

Dean shrugged as Sam looked up at him, "Then take the pills."

Sam made a face and shook his head. Dean let a half-smile show on his face, "Go to sleep then."

"M-kay."

Sam nestled down again, wrapping one arm around Dean and the other hugging Dino close. The boys seemed oblivious to Niamh and Jimmy, who backed out quietly.

"Jimmy," Niamh started, but her housemate cut her off.

"I know. But I couldn't leave them out in the cold. You know I couldn't."

Niamh rolled her eyes and ran a hand through her hair, the other on her hip. She turned away from her friend, speaking quietly, "They're street kids. Dangerous. The older one has a freaking gun. How do you know he won't kill us while we sleep?"

Jimmy stared at her, blue eyes sparkling in the light shooting down from above, and Niamh returned his stare. Suddenly she swore, keeping her voice low to avoid being heard by the boys in the next room. She glared at her housemate, anger blazing.

"Is that the kid that held you up?" she asked "Are they the ones you were talking about yesterday?"

There was a pause before Jimmy finally nodded. It prompted Niamh into another string of curses. She looked up at her friend, shaking her head.

"You idiot! You know for a fact that they're dangerous, yet you bring them into this house? Its' not just yours remember, it's mine too. What if I don't want them here?"

"Then kick them out. But I couldn't leave the little guy out there to get even worse – he's bad enough as it is. I don't think the older one's going to try anything, he's not stupid and he wants to protect his brother."

Niamh snapped, "And you know all this how?"

Jimmy sighed, "Look, if you want them gone, then I'll tell them to get out."

The woman poked her head around the door, watching the brothers silently. Sam was asleep, and the elder was ruffling his hair with a small smile as he shifted his brother off his shoulder and lay him down on the couch. She turned back to her housemate.

"They can stay until the little ki – Sam, is better, okay?" she said "After that, they're out of here."

Jimmy smiled, "You know you're amazing, right?"

Niamh rolled her eyes, "We're housemates, remember?"

"If you say so."

**Please R&R! Hugs to all of you!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Yay, another chapter! I really enjoyed writing this one; a little intrigue and mystery, mostly Dean stuff with some angst and trust issues. **

**Enjoy!**

No one slept easily that night. Niamh was nervous, as was her housemate (even he wasn't sure he'd done the right thing by letting two potentially dangerous street kids into his house). Sam was up every hour or so having to cough to clear his throat so he could breathe. Dean stayed up most of the night with him, calming his brother down when the boy thought he couldn't breathe, letting him fall back to sleep on his shoulder. He was too worried to sleep anyway. His mind was a whirlwind, the thoughts just screaming around his head.

He kept agonizing over his decision to let Novak help Sam. He still had no idea about what he wanted, what he might ask for in return for caring for Sam. Niamh looked nice enough; gentle, sweet, good with Sammy. He was good with figuring people out – it didn't take long for Dean to realise whether someone was an enemy or a friend – but in this situation he had no idea, and it was killing him.

When morning's light came, Dean was still awake, having only snatched a few minutes here and there between Sam's bouts of coughing. At six-thirty, Niamh came down the stairs, watching the pair carefully. She walked over, sitting down on the floor a few paces away from the boys – out of reach, Dean noted. Of course she wouldn't trust him. He would have thought her crazy if she did.

They were silent, Dean and Niamh staring at each other as the sun rose higher and splashed more, brightening light into the room. They switched from staring at each other to Sam, each breaking off their unblinking gaze every so often to see how the sleeping boy was doing. He hadn't stirred yet. Dean couldn't hold back the smile as Sam rolled over, murmuring softly to himself. The sunlight hit his face, lighting it up. His messy, dirty hair still managed a shine after a week of neglect, and he had a calm expression of peace upon his face, childish innocence.

Dean glanced over as he caught Niamh smiling too. Their eyes met, their smiles freezing on their faces, before the woman ducked her head with a small laugh.

"He's your brother, right?" she asked, looking up again a moment later.

The teenager nodded. Niamh sighed as she swapped her gaze between the boys, "You really care about him. How old is he?"

Dean spoke quietly to avoid waking the subject of their conversation. "Eleven."

Niamh frowned, but Dean didn't have to see it to know she was confused. Everyone was when they found out how old he was. He looked maybe a year younger, although taller than the average eleven-year-old. It was the way he acted that puzzled people. Eleven year olds didn't act like Sam did.

"Is it autism?"

Dean nearly fell off the couch with surprise as Niamh spoke just as quietly as he had. The words sent a bolt of shock through him. Now he was the one confused.

Niamh caught the look on his face and explained, "My nephew has it. He's a lot like Sam."

He'd never met anyone who knew someone with autism. Never even thought he would. He knew it wasn't such a huge deal; heaps of people had it, but it hit him with emotion all the same.

Did she have to look after her nephew the way he looked after Sam? Did she have to calm his stubborn tantrums? Did she have to cater to his routine, which made him feel safe? Did she have to put up with all his annoying questions, his tendency to say something random at inappropriate times?

Dean doubted it – after all, she was only his aunt- but it made him smile to think so. Made him happier to think that he wasn't the only one fighting the battle.

"His name's Harry. He's eight," Niamh said, looking at the ground and smiling as she recalled memories of her nephew "He's amazing, but..."

She trailed off, almost afraid to continue. She looked up at Dean, and he nodded. He understood.

"Yeah. Sam's like that."

As if at the sound of his name, Sam mumbled and blinked his eyes open sleepily. He smiled as he saw Dean and sat up, hugging him.

"Morning, Sam," Dean smiled.

"Morning."

Sam looked over to see Niamh, and frowned, "I don't remember you."

"I'm Niamh," she started, but stopped when Sam's eyes lit up in recognition.

"You're the lady with the funny name. I remember you now."

Niamh laughed, and Dean even cracked a smile at that. It was always Sam that made people laugh, for one reason or another.

"You boys hungry?" Niamh asked as she pulled herself up off the floor, her fear seemingly vanished. Sam grinned.

"Lucky Charms!" he said excitedly, and Dean glanced at the older woman. Their eyes met with knowing, and Niamh walked over to Sam and knelt down in front of him.

"Well, Sam, I've actually got something that's better than Lucky Charms. You wanna try some?"

Sam looked sceptical and he glanced at Dean. The elder brother nodded, trying not to look too excited himself. If Sam ate something _other_ than Lucky Charms for once, it would be a miracle.

"You'll love them, trust me," Niamh said as she stood up and held out her hand. Sam looked at it for a moment before hesitantly taking it and getting up off the couch, the battered Dino held tightly in his free hand. Dean followed as the redhead took Sam into the kitchen.

**/\/\**

Bobby sighed as he stared at the phone. He'd tried calling Dean too many times to count over the past week, and each time the kid had ignored the calls. John was calling him every day to ask if the boys had contacted him, and he had to say no. With every phone call, Bobby could hear the desperation growing in his voice, the sound of fear and shock behind his words. It was starting to dawn on him – or at least, he hoped so. If it wasn't, the man was thick-headed and didn't deserve the love he got from his boys.

An idea occurred to him, and without hesitation he picked up the phone and started dialling. Two rings later, his call was answered.

"Hello?" a female voice said.

"It's me, Bobby. I need a little help..."

**/\/\**

What had he done? How could he have let them get away like that? His own kids?

He'd checked into a three-bed motel room out of habit. And now, staring at the two beds that normally would have held his two kids, John was getting desperate. He didn't want to lose them. He'd already lost so much, and so had they. The family had lost everything, gained only knowledge and a job they didn't want.

John knew he and his boys didn't deserve it. The loss of Mary, their home, their life as a whole – none of them deserved to have lost them all. He also knew that Dean didn't deserve the crap he'd put on him. He'd made Dean care for Sam because he couldn't do it himself. From the moment Sam had changed, from the moment they knew what was wrong, Dean had been the one in charge. He was only six at the time but damn, he was a fantastic kid. He'd done everything for Sam, and he, John, had done nothing for his boys.

And he hated himself for it.

Was that was Dean had meant about changing? To understand just what he'd done? He hoped so, because he wanted his kids back. He wanted them home, he wanted them safe. He wanted everything to be okay.

**/\/\**

"Sorry Bobby, nothing came up. I'll keep trying, and if I catch anything I'll call you."

"Thanks."

It'd been worth a shot.

**/\/\**

"You got him to eat cornflakes," Dean said in shock as Sam finished up the bowl of cereal with a grin.

Niamh shrugged, smiling as she took the bowl away and put it in the sink, "I did the same thing I do with Harry."

"But... I've been trying to get him to do that forever. He never listens to me."

"Maybe you just needed someone new to teach him."

They fell into silence for a moment, until Sam broke it by coughing. The harsh hacking fit lasted a full minute, and by the end of it Sam could barely breathe. Dean was patting him on the back, looking at Niamh worriedly. Sam was getting worse.

At that moment, there were the clunking steps of someone descending the stairs. Jimmy appeared in the doorway, pulling a jacket on as he smiled at Sam. The kid looked at him curiously, as if trying to remember where he'd seen the guy before. He slipped his hand into Dean's, and his brother tightened his fingers around it protectively.

"I'll head out to the drug store and see what I can get for him," Jimmy said, glancing at Niamh.

Dean saw the unspoken question Jimmy was asking his friend. Was she okay with staying home with the two potentially dangerous street kids? Was she okay with putting her life in possible danger? The only thing Jimmy didn't know was that Niamh knew more about the kids than he did. The woman nodded, and there was not even a hint of fear in her at all.

Jimmy nodded in return and with one last look between her and the brothers, he walked for the door. The sound of it closing behind him was a final, thick thud.

There was only a moment of silence before Niamh turned to the boys and gave them an assessing look with a critical eye.

"You need to be cleaned up," she said, nodding as if agreeing with herself.

Dean glanced at Sam, then down at himself. It was true – they were filthy. Sam was covered with grime and dirt, and god knew what else. His clothes were tattered, torn, and just as disgusting. Sam's hair was so thick with dirt and grit that it probably weighed a ton, and hung in front of his eyes like greasy, drying concrete. Dean knew he wasn't looking much better.

He instantly thought of their bags, still hidden beneath a dumpster back in the alley. It held everything they owned, everything they'd salvaged before running. He mentioned it to Niamh quietly, and the woman smiled.

"Great. Why don't you go get them? At least then you can have some clean clothes."

Dean was nodding before he even realised. When he did, he glanced guiltily at Sam, who was oblivious to the turmoil now tumbling inside his brother.

He'd just agreed to something a stranger had told him to do, without even pausing to think of Sam. He never forgot to think of Sam – Sam was the centre of every decision he made. Niamh seemed to notice, and the tension in the room went up by such a degree it seemed the room's temperature had shot up suddenly.

"I'm not going to do anything to him," the woman said quietly "I know you're protective of him. I know that you have to be, because if you're not than not many others will be. And I know that what I'm saying isn't going to make you change your mind, because it wouldn't change mine if I were in your position. I just hope you understand that I'm not out to hurt anyone."

Dean swallowed. This was a chance to test his trust of these people. To see if they were really who they said they were. But it was such a huge chance, one that could so easily backfire in a million different ways.

He could always take Sam, but then he would lose everything he had with Niamh and Jimmy. Not that he had much, but he did have their slowly-growing trust that he wasn't a danger to them. Now he knew he had to return the favour. He had to show them that he trusted them, at least a little.

"I'll... I'll go get them."

Even as he said the words, he hated himself. He knew he was doing it for Sam, but every fibre of his being was screaming at him not to leave Sam alone with a stranger. After years and years of listening to his instincts, now he was pushing them aside. It was strange feeling, a painful feeling, but a necessary one.

He raced out the door as quickly as he could. The sooner he could collect the bags the quicker he could be back with Sam. He ran to the alley a few streets away and ducked into it, sliding his hand under the dumpster to pull the two duffel bags out. With the light bags clutched in his hands, he started back, panting. He had to trust her, he had no choice.

As he ran, he wondered why he'd so readily agreed to Niamh's suggestions, without even a second thought. Without thinking at all. He couldn't understand why she'd had that effect on him, why he'd been so willing. He wasn't sure why he was so okay with her being with Sam, alone. Without him to protect his brother from any possible danger. He didn't leave Sam alone with anyone, except his Dad. And even then...

He shook his head. No. He wasn't going to think about his father. The son of a bitch had done something almost unforgivable. He wasn't going to let the man have even an inch of space within his head.

It suddenly occurred to Dean that Niamh reminded him of someone. He couldn't quite put his finger on who it was, but he was sure the answer was somewhere within his mind. He just had to think a little harder.

When he arrived back he raced inside and instantly looked around for Sam, panicking when he couldn't see him. He dropped the bags by the door, hesitant to call his brother's name for fear of sounding too desperate. He had to prove his trust, as well as his nature.

Niamh was walking down the stairs when she saw Dean by the door, the panic barely hidden on his face. She smiled hesitantly.

"He's upstairs. Bathroom."

Dean rushed past her, running for the sounds of Sam he could hear when he reached the second floor. Looking inside the bathroom, he relaxed when he saw Sam in the bath, rubbing dirt from his face. The kid looked up at him, head slightly tilted, a smile gracing his lips.

"Hey Sammy," Dean said with a relieved smile as he sat down on the ground beside the broken Dino waiting for its owner on the floor. Dean leaned against the wall of the bathtub to stabilise himself.

"Hey Dean."

"You okay?"

Sam nodded, continuing to scrub the filth from his body. Dean smiled again and stood up, walking for the door.

"I'm gonna bring your bag up, okay? You can get dressed when you're done."

Sam nodded again and Dean walked out, shutting the door quietly behind him and breathing a sigh of relief.

So far, things were going okay.

**Okay. I'm not American, so I don't know if you call it a drug store, or a pharmacy, or whatever. I just wikipedia'd it. Cause Wiki is God XD If I sound stupid, it's cause I'm a proud Aussie and I don't know anything about America. If only Supernatural was set in Australia... now _that_ would be AWESOME. Even just one episode...**

**Please review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**I was bored, so I wrote another chapter ^^ I'm not too happy with this one, but the stuff in it is kind of needed. So, hopefully you'll enjoy.**

"Hey Cricket! You're not working today, are you?" the young man behind the counter asked with a grin as his friend entered. Jimmy smiled as he walked in, the door closing behind him with a clink of a bell.

"Stop calling me that, Marty. No, just here to get something. I thought James was working this morning?"

The dark blonde smiled his trademark mischievous grin, pale eyes sparkling as he shook his head, "Yeah, but he called in sick. So I get dragged out early on a Sunday morning to stand here for hours. Fun. And anyway, you love that nickname."

Jimmy laughed, reaching the counter and leaning against it, "I do not. It's not my fault you're half deaf."

Marty held his hands out in mock offence, "Hey! It sounded like he said Jiminy. It's Tom's fault for not speaking up."

"Whatever," Jimmy shook his head with a smile. If he was honest, he didn't mind it that much. Marty was a funny guy, always ready with a witty comment or smart remark. He could get annoying when  
he didn't shut up, or said something without thinking as he usually did, but for the most part Marty was a great guy and a good friend.

"What're you here for?"

Jimmy paused, wondering how to say what he needed to. He couldn't exactly tell Marty that he had a rough and dangerous street kid living at his place who had a sick little brother.

"Uh, Niamh's got a friend of Harry's staying over for a while, and he's not feeling great. Really bad cough, can't breathe sometimes, headaches, sore throat – the lot."

"Ah."

Marty walked around back to see what he could find and Jimmy waited. Sam was a good kid, he was sure of it. The elder – Dean, if he remembered right – he wasn't quite sure about. There was certainly something about the kid that wasn't like any other teenager he'd ever come across. He figured it could have just been the fact that he was homeless and having to protect his little brother from harm – doing everything he could to make sure his sibling was safe. But Jimmy wasn't sure. There was something; something in the boy's eyes that told a whole different story. Told a shrouded tale of a loss Jimmy couldn't even comprehend.

Marty arrived back, pushing a bottle of antibiotics across the counter towards his friend, "That'll fix him up quick as anything."

Jimmy picked it up, the liquid sloshing around the inside of the bottle. His thoughts about Dean slid to the back of his mind, waiting but not forgotten, as he paid for the medicine.

"Thanks. I'll see you around."

As he walked for the door, Marty's voice sounded behind him.

"How're you and Niamh going?"

Jimmy smiled, turning, "You know there's no Niamh and me."

Marty gave him a sly smirk, winking, "That's what she thinks. Just a matter of time, I'm telling you. She's so into you."

"I think my parents would have a heart attack if Niamh and I got together. They're already edgy about us being housemates. You know how they are."

"Yeah, well," Marty said "Your life. I'll see you later. Tell Niamh I said hi."

"Will do."

As Jimmy left, the bell on the door fading away as he walked, his thoughts returned to Dean. He barely knew anything about the kid or his brother. All he could say for certain was that they were in need of help and he was going to do whatever was needed to help them. He prayed to God that he was doing the right thing, and this wasn't going to end with anyone lying in the morgue.

**/\/\**

Bobby hadn't been expecting to see a devastated John standing on his doorstep. He let the man in, silent as his friend braced himself on a table for support. He rubbed his face, ran a hand through his hair.

"You look like crap," Bobby said.

A time ago, it would have made John chuckle and make a smart comment about how hunting had that effect on people. Now, all he could think about was what had happened to his boys. He couldn't lose them, not after he'd lost everything else. They were his last tie to Mary, his last connection to the real world – the one of the last things he cared about.

Bobby noted the dark circles under his friend's eyes, showing just how long he'd been without sleep. He was pale, his eyes dulled and hopeless. The hunter swayed as he tried to keep on his feet, but he was on the verge of collapse. Whether it would be from physical exhaustion or emotional pain, Bobby didn't know.

He led his friend to a chair, got him to sit down. John was quiet, doing blindly as he was told as if it were the only thing keeping him sane in this time of uncertainty and panic. Once Bobby had sat down, John muttered lowly.

"I'm going crazy, Bobby. I need my boys back, safe."

"I know. You know I'm looking for them too."

"I don't want the next time I see them to be with them cold and dead. They have to be okay."

Bobby half-smiled despite the situation, "Dean won't let anything happen to Sam. They'll be okay, they're just hiding."

John sighed quietly, closing his eyes.

"Look, I called a friend of mine. She's psychic. Wherever they are, she'll find them. But she works better if she has something that they touched. If you've got something, we can drive over and see if she can find the boys."

John looked up. Dean had taken everything he owned, and so had Sam. He had nothing left of his boys save a few photos...

"_Dad," Dean asked quietly from the backseat, running a hand through Sam's hair. The boy was asleep on his shoulder, breathing softly._

"Yeah?"

"Was Mum nice?"

John turned around slightly in the seat to see his son. Dean was holding a photo in his hands, and John was pretty sure he knew which one. The one with all four of them, just days before the fire. Little Dean holding a baby Sammy, Mary and John smiling at the new joy in their family.

"Of course. She was the nicest person you could ever know."

Dean was quiet for a moment, staring at the photo as if he hadn't heard his father speak. John looked back to the road just as Dean spoke again, his voice barely a whisper now.

"Can you tell me about her?"

"Your mother was one of the greatest people on this Earth. Amazing, she was. Beautiful, gentle. I have the sneaking suspicion she could kick some serious butt though."

Dean cracked a smile, glancing at Sam. John fell silent, staring at the road as he felt tears begin to rise at the memory of his beloved Mary.

That had been a week before his sons had run away. The photo was still on the dashboard of the Impala, alongside the one of just the two brothers taken minutes afterwards.

"Yeah," John said, hope rising in him for the first time in a very long time "I do."

Bobby stood up, grabbing the keys to his truck, "Come on then. Let's go find them."

**/\/\**

When Jimmy returned home, he barely recognised the two boys he'd brought into his home the night before. Both were clean and dirt-free. Sam's hair was washed and Jimmy could tell that it was actually a light brown colour rather than a dark gritty brown-black. Dean looked less like a dumpster-living rat and more like a teenage boy with slightly spiked brown hair. Wearing a slightly-holey Led Zeppelin t-shirt, jeans and an old leather jacket, he looked like a typical rocker-rebel teen. Alongside Sam in a plain grey t-shirt and black track pants, the pair appeared to be just your average kids.

Jimmy knew otherwise.

"Got some antibiotics for Sam," he said as caught Dean's eye. The teenager was looking at him with a hint of distrust, but there was something else behind it. Acceptance. Of what, Jimmy didn't know. Of the situation he was in? Of having to ask for help? Or of the fact Jimmy just wanted to help?

"Thanks."

The way Dean said it was so normal, so... not what he'd expected. Jimmy managed to hide his surprise and kept a straight face as Dean looked down at his brother beside him and ruffled the kid's hair. The boy pouted and pushed Dean away, but the elder smiled.

"Come on," Dean said, giving Jimmy an upwards glance "You gotta take some medicine, make your cough better."

Sam was complacent, and went along with it without a fuss. He swallowed the dose of medication without complaining, although made a face afterwards at the taste. Jimmy noted that Dean didn't let him give Sam the antibiotics – he did it himself. He knew it would be a while before the teenager trusted him – if ever – but he didn't mind. He was there to help the boys – he was sure that's why he'd bumped into them those few days again, when Dean had stolen his wallet. It was a sign that he was meant to help them.

As if the boy had read his mind, Dean gave him a quick glance as Sam finished swallowing. He took his brother's hand and led him from the room, leaving Jimmy alone. But only moments later Dean returned, without Sam but holding something familiar.

Dean held out the wallet, standing a little way off from Jimmy so the man had to reach out to take it back. Jimmy flipped it open, found everything was still there – except for the four dollars he'd had. He looked at Dean, smiling slightly. The teen didn't look remotely fazed.

"I bought something for Sam to eat, because he wasn't eating."

Jimmy shrugged. It was four dollars – sure it'd been his money, and the kid had stolen it, but it wasn't as if he'd taken a lot. Forgiveness – it was a virtue.

"Thank you."

"Thank you," Dean replied.

Jimmy hadn't been expecting that either. It seemed the teenager was full of surprises, Jimmy mused as Dean walked away, presumably back to Sam.

Jimmy went in search of Niamh, but I turned out she was looking for him. They met in Niamh's bedroom, the sounds of the brothers talking quietly coming from downstairs. The woman smiled at him, but was visibly nervous now.

"What are we going to do with them?" she asked as she sat down on the edge of her bed. Jimmy joined her, sighing.

"I don't know. I thought you wanted to look after them until Sam was better."

"Yeah. But we don't know anything about them. Maybe their parents are out there, looking for them. We should probably call the police or something, tell them what's going on. Because what are we going to do once Sam's okay again? Just send them on their way? Let them live on the streets again?"

"I think we should see how it goes before we tell anyone. They're here for a reason."

Niamh looked over to him and smiled, "God told you that?"

Jimmy smiled in return. Niamh wasn't a believer, and that was fine with him. But he knew that someone had sent him to walk past that alley that day. Someone had wanted him to find those boys and take care of them.

"I walked that way for a reason. And I think looking after these kids is the reason. If something goes wrong, we'll call the police."

"If something goes wrong," Niamh said, rolling her eyes "It could be too late to call anyone."

"They're not going to kill us."

Niamh sighed, "I know. I see what you mean about Dean. I can see it in his eyes when he looks after Sam. He's not going to hurt anyone unless they hurt Sam. You know Sam's autistic?"

"I guessed as much," Jimmy replied, thinking back to how his housemate's nephew acted and comparing it with Sam. They were very similar.

"He's got so much to deal with, I don't really want to add the police to his list of worries."

"Then we wait and see."

**Please R&R!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks for all your lovely reviews, they mean a lot to me! I really appreciate people taking the time to tell me what they think of my work - hugs and love to everyone who's reviewed!**

Dean was sat on the floor, watching Sam with Dino. The kid was trying to play with him, but the stuffing kept falling out, and in the end he gave up. He looked at Dean, and the elder boy shook his head.

"Sorry. I haven't got anything to fix it with."

Sam sighed, putting the toy down and leaning back against the couch with arms folded. Dean leaned back as well, supporting himself on his hands. Sam stared at his brother for a moment, tilting his head curiously before finally speaking.

"I like Niamh."

Dean looked at the ground for a moment, nodding, "Yeah?"

"Jimmy's nice too."

"He is."

There was a pause, as Dean looked back up at Sam and the younger Winchester gave him the puppy face he knew his brother couldn't resist. Dean quickly looked away again, closing his eyes this  
time.

"But I wanna go home."

"I know." He stopped for a moment, silent. Then, "I do too."

And he did. He wanted more than anything to be away from here, be back with his father doing what he did best – hunting down the bad guys. Not that he didn't like Niamh and Jimmy; they were great, they'd taken them in and cared for them when no one else had. They'd trusted him when they had no reason to. But they weren't his family. As pathetic as it sounded to him, Dean wanted his dad.

He wondered if his father was looking for him. If he was, who exactly was he looking for? Both of them? Just Dean? Maybe he'd learned his lesson, maybe not. He didn't know, and would never know if he didn't try and find out.

Dean looked at Sam, who hadn't taken the puppy eyes off him. He moved closer, settling in next to his younger brother and putting an arm around his shoulder. Sam rested his head on Dean's shoulder, closing his eyes.

"Soon, Sammy. We'll go home soon."

It was a promise he wasn't sure he could keep. If his father never learned, then Dean and Sam could never go back to him. John's last slip-up had resulted in him shooting Dino – next time it could be Sam. Next time it could be anyone.

The sound of footsteps – heavy, thick– alerted Dean to Jimmy's presence. He looked up and saw him in the doorway, watching the two boys with brilliant blue eyes. Jimmy and Dean stared at each other for a moment, until the latter decided to speak.

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You gonna call the cops or someone?"

Jimmy shook his head, folding his arms, "No. Not yet, at any rate."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Jimmy said "that until Sam's better, you can stay."

Dean nodded, confused by the man's actions. Why would anyone take in two strange kids, one armed and with no hesitation in using his gun? Why would they take the risk? Anyone else would have just walked past – and they had. Why had Jimmy been the one to stop, to help them when he had no reason to? Especially after he'd already been robbed by them.

As Jimmy turned to walk away, Dean's thoughts rapidly returned to going home, back to his father. He might not be able to return just yet, but he could do the next best thing, which Sam would love.

"Hey Jimmy?"

The man stopped, looked at Dean with curiosity, "Yeah?"

"Could I... could I call someone?"

Jimmy smiled and nodded. He gestured for Dean to follow him, so the boy disentangled himself from Sam who nestled back into the couch quite happily. Dean followed Jimmy to the phone, where the older man left him to make the call in private.

Dean had tossed his mobile away on the bus, knowing his father could track it and would do so. It also meant he didn't have to constantly have phone calls and messages coming in that he didn't want to hear or read. Dean picked up the phone, dialling the number he wanted and waiting, biting his lip.

All he got was the answering machine.

Dean sighed, leaving a message.

"Hey... uh, Bobby, it's me. Dean. Yeah. Um, I wanted to know... if Sam and I could come and stay. Please don't tell Dad, we can't go back yet. I don't know if you're just gonna tell him anyway, but... I'll call back later."

It was a last-hope attempt. He'd been fearful of calling Bobby in case the older man decided to hand them straight back to their father. But now, after a week of struggling to survive, he just wanted to see a familiar face. If Bobby tried to give them back to their father, Dean decided he'd run again. He'd fight as hard as he could to make sure he didn't go back until he was sure Sam was going to be okay. With a sigh, he hung up. He knew Bobby probably could and would trace the phone number he'd called from, but he'd deal with that if and when it happened. He walked back to Sam, shuddering to a halt when he saw someone kneeling in front of him.

His instincts kicked in and he reached for the pistol still tucked into the back of his jeans. He had his fingers around the grip before he realised it was Niamh. He calmed, shaking his head with relief. He stayed in the doorway, listening to the conversation going on between the woman and his brother.

"Who's that"

There was a pause, Dean watching in silence until Sam spoke quietly.

"His name's Dino."

"What happened to him?" Niamh asked, taking something from Sam and inspecting it. Dean could see the stuffing and green fabric of Sam's favourite toy. He wondered what Sam would say. It wouldn't sound so good if Sam said 'My Dad shot my toy'. Dean bit his lip to stop from sniggering – Niamh's reaction to that would be priceless.

But Sam didn't say anything about his toy being shot. All he said was, "My Dad."

Dean imaging Niamh was frowning, looking confused, "Your father did this?"

Sam nodded. As he did, he noticed Dean standing in the doorway. He fixed his gaze on his brother, which made the woman turn around to face him. She was still holding Dino, and looking at the older brother with confusion. Dean walked over, sitting down beside Sam and giving Niamh a look. A look that told her exactly how much he was going to reveal about why they were homeless. Absolutely nothing.

She seemed to get the hint, as she looked back to Sam.

"Would you like me to fix him for you? It won't take long."

Sam looked hesitant to let the toy go, but after a moment of thought, he nodded. She smiled, getting up and walking away to fix it, tossing Dean a curious glance as she left.

"I called Bobby," Dean said once she was gone.

Sam looked up at him excitedly. He loved Bobby almost as much as he loved Dean. The old man understood Sam's condition and always spoiled the boys when they came around (as much as hunters could be spoiled). He also had an old dog that lived in the car yard that Sam loved. The old flea-bitten mongrel looked vicious, and did a good job of guarding Bobby's place, but he was a softie, and being all but toothless meant Dean didn't have to worry about the animal ripping Sam's arm off. It was no wonder Sam loved seeing Bobby.

"Are we going to Bobby's?" Sam asked, almost pleading.

"He wasn't there," Dean said, hating how Sam's face fell "But I'm going to call him again soon. He might be out."

And by 'out', he meant hunting. Which meant he might not be back for days, depending on when he'd left. He wasn't going to tell that to Sam though – he was depressed enough as it was by not being able to go home.

"Oh," the boy said, looking thoroughly unhappy "Okay."

Wanting to cheer Sam up, Dean thought of one of the things his brother loved to do – telling stories. So he turned to Sam and grinned, "Hey, wanna tell some stories?"

Sam brightened instantly, "Yeah! The one where we both tell it."

"Okay. I'll start," Dean smiled, thinking furiously. He was always terrible at these – he had nowhere near the imagination Sam had when it came to making up story lines.

"Once upon a time," Dean started, knowing if his father could see him he'd wonder what had happened to his eldest son "there was a little kid called Sam. One day, Sam was..."

Dean trailed off, trying to think of something. But Sam took it as a gesture for his turn, and spoke up.

"...at school, when suddenly a big scary guy came up and said hello."

Dean remembered this. It was much like all the other times he'd had to protect his brother, but in this case it'd been particularly memorable, as Sam was now explaining.

"And the big scary guy tried to get Sam to come with him. But Sam knew that strangers were dangerous..." (Dean smiled at that – he'd taught that to Sam when he was four) "...so he ran to his big brother."

Sam paused, looking at Dean expectantly. Dean continued the story, more comfortable now that he knew what he was talking about.

"His big brother came and told the guy to go away." Dean remembered it more as 'Piss off, dick' but he figured he shouldn't repeat that "But he didn't. He grabbed Sam by the arm and tried to drag him away."

Dean recalled how terrified he'd felt for his little brother. Sam had been only six years old, and the guy had been huge, muscular and strong. Most ten year olds would have run away, but not Dean. Never Dean.

"The big brother raced after him, jumping on his back to make him let his brother go."

Sam grinned. Dean smiled in return. It _had_ been pretty spectacular, considering it'd all happened outside Sam's school. Kids had been staring, teachers confused, parents in shock.

"The guy let go of Sam," Sam continued "And tried to get the big brother instead. So the big brother turned around and punched the guy in the face, because he was actually a superhero."

Dean hid a snort of laughter. He certainly didn't remember it that way. He was pretty sure he'd grabbed Sam and run like hell. But he wasn't going to complain about being the superhero.

"He was actually Batman," Dean grinned, and Sam laughed "And he beat the guy up until he ran away crying. Then Batman and Sam ran all the way home, excited that they'd just beaten one of the most dangerous bad guys ever."

"But when they got home, they found out their dad had been kidnapped by aliens," Sam jumped in.

The pair continued, their tale of alien abductions leading to alien princesses, giant monsters and flying pancakes. Throughout the story, Dean had the strange prickling sensation of danger. He brushed it off, knowing it was either because he was in a stranger's house, alone, or because either Niamh or Jimmy was watching them. He concentrated on the story, which kept the pair amused far into the afternoon; until the sun began to set and the shadows got longer, and the story ended with Batman and Sam saving their father and finding their way home.

Dean sighed as Sam finished up the story. If only they could do that in real life.

**/\/\**

They'd been on the road for a day, and there was still another day ahead of them until they reached their destination. Bobby took his eyes of the dark road for a moment to look at his friend, asleep in the seat beside him. The man still looked tense and desperate, even in sleep. Bobby sighed. He hoped that his friend could find the boys, otherwise he didn't know what he was going to do with John. His friend was an emotional wreck, making his way through the days only because he knew he had to find his sons. It was his last hope, his last tie to sanity. Bobby knew if John lost Dean and Sam, he'd rather kill himself than keep living – he loved them too much to have to live without them, especially knowing he made them run.

"I'll drive."

Bobby glanced over again to see John sitting up, stifling a yawn. He sounded almost normal, but the tinge of fear tainted his voice. Bobby shook his head.

"No, I'm fine. Go back to sleep."

John sighed, too exhausted to argue. The old man could see in his friend's eyes that he wanted to, but there wasn't anything in him that could be bothered. It was like he'd just given up – on almost everything.

Within moments, John was lost to the world again, still unable to be at peace just yet. Bobby stared at the road, lit only by the headlights of his truck. They had to find those boys.


	10. Chapter 10

**I don't think there's much in thic chapter that isn't angsty. So, prepare for a barrage of angst and sad/upset Dean. (Don't worry, it _will_ get happier!)**

_In the darkness, I couldn't see anything. The land around me was pitch black – I didn't know where I was, or what was going on, or where anyone was. But I knew I was alone. I didn't want to be alone. I swung my head around, searching desperately in the shadows for anyone. Anyone, just someone to come out and make me feel like I wasn't alone._

"_Sam?" I yelled "Dad?"_

But no one came. There was nothing; just the silence of the darkness. Not a sound except the echoes of my shouts. I ran, yelling every name I could think of. But still no one came. I ran, and ran, and ran, until I couldn't run anymore. My stumbled, as my legs shuddered under me. I didn't know how long I'd been running for. I didn't know what I was running to, or from, or what the hell I was doing at all. All I knew was that I had to find someone. I didn't want to be alone anymore.

"_Sammy! Dad!" I shouted as my legs finally gave way and I fell to my knees. Rocks, shards of glass, needles and knives stabbed me as I dropped, tearing into my knees and ripping them apart. I could feel the blood rippling in a pool around my legs, the pain spiking as I steadied myself on my hands. Pain tore through them as well, so much pain. I felt like the darkness around me was closing in, surrounding me and choking. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't move except to keep calling my family's names and hope that someone could hear me. _

"_Someone! Please!" I screamed, begging. Please, just someone come and not let me be alone anymore. I don't want to be alone, don't make me be alone, please, I'm begging you. Someone. _

"_Don't beg. Never beg, it's pathetic."_

I know that voice. Looking up, I see my father, staring down at me impassively. I try and scramble to my feet but my dad pushes me down again, back to my knees. I cry out in pain, and he gives me a look like he's disappointed. He doesn't let me speak, he interrupts.

"You don't want to be alone?"

"No," I whisper "I don't. Please don't go."

He sneers, angry and snarling, "Don't go? You're the one who left."

I looked away. I couldn't look at my father now, after what I'd done. I could feel tears stinging at my eyes and I tried to blink them away, force them to leave me alone. I wouldn't cry in front of my father. 

"_You broke everything up when you left, Dean," Dad continued "You broke up the family. Now you can pay the price."_

"Dad, please..." I was begging, on my knees, but I didn't care. I just wanted to go home and be with Dad and Sam. Be a family again, no matter how screwed it was.

"Don't beg. You can suffer for what you've done."

He started to walk away, and I reached out desperately for him, crying out for him not to go. But he just kept walking, his back to me, without a second glance. 

"_Dean?"_

Sammy's voice rang out loud and clear, and I saw him standing in front of me surrounded by a halo of light. Dad had stopped, was watching the pair of us. I stretched out a bloody hand, willing my little brother to take it and not leave me. He couldn't leave me, not after all I'd done for him. But he took a step back out of my reach, looking at me with hurtful, wide eyes.

"I wanna go home."

"Sam! I wanna go home too!" I yelled as he walked away towards Dad. My father took Sam's hand and they started off, away from me. The light started to fade.

"_No!" As I collapsed on the ground, begging for them to return, they vanished into the darkness and left me there alone. Agony flashed through me as the sharp knives, the needles and the rocks, the shards of glass, all slashed at me, trying to worm their way inside and shred me from the inside out. _

"_Sammy, I'm sorry. I wanna go home. I'll take you home, just please don't leave me here alone."_

The darkness and shadows swallowed me, the light disappearing forever and strangling me until there was nothing left.

Dean started awake, wet tracks streaking down his face. He wiped them off, blinking away the last traces of tears. In the darkness of early morning, Dean could still hear the faint echoing of his own sobs, his father's voice and Sam's saddened plea. He breathed in deeply, keeping his mind from wandering back to the nightmare. He closed his eyes, but all he saw was his father's face, pushing him away. Dean sighed, a shaky breath, and slowly looked to his right. He half-thought Sam was going to be gone. Maybe his nightmare hadn't been a dream, maybe Sam had disappeared and left him all alone.

But there he was, asleep on the couch. His bangs fluttered with every even breath, and he was so peaceful when he slept. Dean stood up carefully from the pile of blankets on the floor that constituted his bed and slid up onto the couch beside his brother, being careful not to wake him. It was a small couch, but big enough to fit two boys side by side, one scared and alone, the other oblivious to it all. Dean wrapped an arm around his brother, feeling calmer almost instantly. The feel of Sam's steady heartbeat under his loose hand was comforting, and just having his little brother this close was enough for him to realise that he wasn't alone. Ever. Sam grabbed the hand resting over his chest, hugging it close to his body. He still didn't have Dino back, and Dean's hand was the next best thing. Dean smiled tiredly.

He wondered if this was how Sam felt when he rested his head on his big brother's shoulder. His big brother, who he looked up to and saw as a superhero. Who never got scared, was always brave. Dean wondered if the sense of security that he felt now, holding his brother like he'd never let go, was the same feeling Sam felt as he fell asleep on his shoulder, hugging him tight. Just thinking about sleep now was making his eyelids heavy again, tied down with lead weights trying to drag him into dreamland. He didn't want to go, he wanted to stay away from the nightmare that was taunting him at the edges of his mind. But he couldn't hold back from the wave of tiredness that washed over him, so he gave up and let himself drift off.

**/\/\**

"Dean?"

Dean awoke to the sound of Sam saying his name, softly and quietly. He opened his eyes slowly. Sam was looking at him over his shoulder, eyes curious. Dean smiled, shifting a little as Sam wriggled out from the arm hooked around him. The younger rolled over as Dean sat up, yawning. He looked down at Sam, who rubbed his eyes and pushed hair out of his face.

"Are you gonna call Bobby again today?" Sam asked, his voice sounding a little rough from all the use yesterday coupled with his illness.

Dean nodded, "Yeah."

Sam smiled and sat up, hugging Dean. The older boy couldn't help but smile in return as he hugged his little brother back. Sam mumbled something into Dean's shoulder. When his brother didn't respond Sam pulled back and looked up at Dean.

"Love you."

"Me too."

Dean didn't know why it was so hard to get the words out.

**/\/\**

For the rest of the day, Dean felt detached from everything around him. That is, until late in the afternoon as he sat watching Sam and Niamh fix Dino. Niamh sewed Dino up, shoving whatever stuffing she could find back into the tattered toy's body. Sam watched with interest, asking questions and helping the young woman in her work. At last she was finished. She handed the mended toy back to its owner. It was a little thinner than before, but Sam grinned, hugging the old dinosaur tight with an expression of pure joy. Sam looked at Niamh with a massive smiled, before launching himself at her and enveloping the woman in a hug.

Something shot through Dean at that moment, seeing Sam show so much affection to someone he barely knew. It hurt. He felt awful, like a horrible human being, a terrible person deep inside. A stab of regret pierced him at the happiness between Sam and Niamh, who was hugging him back with a massive smile.

He knew why he'd obeyed Niamh's request without a second thought. He knew why he felt okay with leaving Sam alone with her. He knew why he felt such regret at the pair's happiness. She reminded him of his mother.

He didn't remember her well, but what he did know was that she'd been beautiful, and gentle, and sweet and kind. She would have loved Sam as much as she'd loved Dean, and that if she were still alive then they wouldn't be hunting, or moving around constantly. They'd live in a proper house, and be a real family. They'd all be happy. It was childish, Dean knew, to want something he could never have, especially something as pathetic and dreamish as that.

Niamh was just like he remembered his mother. Save the appearance, Niamh could have been her, just as she was eleven years ago before she died. And just that fact was killing him.

Niamh and Sam were looking at him now, the redhead with curiosity and worry all mixed up in her grey-green eyes. Dean had to look away, he couldn't let her see how much she hurt him. He didn't realise he was holding his breath to keep back the tears until he felt Niamh sit beside him on the floor, put an arm around him.

"What's wrong?" she asked quietly.

Dean just wrapped both arms around her and buried his head into her shoulder, not crying but on the verge. Neither moved, Dean just trying to breathe properly, and Niamh holding him close.

"It's okay, it's okay."

**Please review! **


	11. Chapter 11

**I was away for a few days, so I couldn't update when I would have liked to. But here it is, the next chapter. Hope you enjoy, and thanks for all the lovely, awesome reviews! **

They reached their destination by mid-afternoon – mainly because Bobby had been speeding slightly. He wanted to find those boys before John did something stupid, or even have the chance to _think_ of doing something stupid. As he cut the engine outside his psychic friend's house he looked over to John, who was already unbuckling his seatbelt. He was out of the truck in a flash, Bobby trying to keep up. The old man had to jog to keep up with the hunter, who was waiting for him by the front door. He held the photograph in his fingers, dangling loosely. Bobby caught up and knocked on the door, giving his friend a curious glance. If he didn't know any better, John just looked depressed, unhappy, sad, faraway and slightly detached from reality. But, knowing the man far too well, he knew that John was on the edge of going insane, losing a little more each day.

Which was why he _had_ to find Dean and Sam, he thought as the door opened to reveal a young dark-haired woman. She smiled when she saw the two men on her doorstep, but looked more than a little surprised.

"Bobby! What are you doing here?"

"I called you a few days back, about the missing boys?"

"Sam and Dean?" she asked "Yes, but what's that got to do..."

"I know you work better with something the missing touched. We've got something. We need you to find them, now."

The way Bobby spoke left no room for argument. The woman raised an eyebrow and shrugged, but said nothing in response to that. Instead, she looked at John, standing silently beside Bobby.

"You're the boys' father?"

"John," he muttered.

"Pamela. Come inside, both of you."

Pamela stepped back to allow the two men to enter. They walked in, John following Bobby and ignoring the curious look he got from Pamela. The psychic led them to a small room that Bobby recognised as where she usually worked. She told her visitors to sit at the low round table in the centre of the room before she sat herself to Bobby's right – across from John, so she could see his face.

"Shall we get to it then?" she asked.

**/\/\**

He refused to cry in front of her. He didn't cry – he'd grown up now, he was a hunter. He was brave and strong, not a wimp. But as he sat there, Niamh's arms holding him tight like he'd wished someone would do just once, he wasn't sure he could control himself. The tears were threatening to break through the dam he'd built in his mind to keep them back. They were pushing, pressuring to be let free.

But Dean Winchester didn't cry.

He was startled back into reality as three sharp knocks resounded. Niamh looked up, Dean glancing around and catching Sam's eye. The kid looked troubled, standing a few paces off and staring at Dean with worry in his eyes. Behind him, in the doorway, Dean saw Jimmy walk past towards the front door – someone was waiting. Dean gestured for Sam to come over, releasing his grip on Niamh as Sam ran to his brother dropped to his knees, hugging him.

"Hello? Is there something I can do for you?" the three heard Jimmy say from just down the hall.

"Jimmy Novak?" a female voice asked, the sound sending shivers down Dean's spine. He listened, wondering why the voice had such an effect on him.

"Yes?"

"I'm Officer Young. We've had reports of two homeless youngsters terrorising this area. Have you seen them?"

Dean tightened his grip on Sam. There was no way he was going with the cops. Cops were bad news, always bad news. Dean had been raised in the fear of someone finding out about his father's shoddy parenting and being taken away forever, his father being arrested, thrown in prison. He didn't want that; he'd never wanted that, even when he'd run. His father was still his father.

It was the moment that was going to prove whether Niamh and Jimmy were to be trusted. Would they give them up? They said they wouldn't but faced with the cops, Dean knew most civilians would follow the law and do as they were told. People lied, all the time.

"I'm sorry, I haven't seen any kids around here lately."

"One's a teenager and the other's a few years younger, around ten or so."

"No, sorry."

There was a long pause, and Dean was desperate to know what was going on. He had to know if Young believed Jimmy or if she knew he was lying and was about to storm inside and take them away. He held Sam closer – his little brother wasn't going anywhere if he had anything to say about it. The wait was agony. But after what seemed like an hour, the woman spoke again, almost making Dean jump with surprise.

"Thank you for your time. If you do see them, be sure to call us. The elder is armed and has already shot two people."

Beside Dean, Niamh stiffened. Dean frowned, confused. He hadn't done anything like what this cop was trying to pin on him. Surely they believed that? If they didn't he'd have to run again and Sam wasn't well enough to go back to the streets.

There was surprise in Jimmy's voice as he asked, "Are they okay?"

"They're fine now, but both were in critical condition. You see why we want to find the kids."

"If I see them, I'll be sure to call. Thank you."

"Thank you for your time."

Dean scrambled up from the floor and ran to the window. He had to see this cop – he was going to burn her face into his memory and find out why she'd lied. Being careful not to be seen, he glanced out of the window and watched the woman walk down the path to the car waiting for her. Beside her, another man walked. Tall, barrel-chested, with thick arms and legs and close-cropped black hair, the guy looked like he was the bad cop – the one who scared the shit out of people. The woman was blonde, hair waving down her back although pulled back in a ponytail. She was a little shorter than her companion, walking with confidence. They reached the squad car, slid in, and drove off.

Dean turned as Jimmy entered the room. He stared at the teenager, and Niamh stood up from the floor as she glanced from brother to brother. The confusion in her eyes was obvious, she couldn't quite believe what she'd heard. Jimmy just had a blank expression, and that was what worried Dean. He didn't know what he was thinking, and he didn't want Jimmy to think he was a liar. He needed to stay, at least for a few more days until Sam was better.

"I didn't do it. I didn't shoot anyone."

There was silence as Dean and Jimmy locked eyes, staring each other down as if attempting to force the truth out into the open. One of them would have to back down, speak first and break the silence. But neither seemed willing. In the end, it was another who stepped into the silence.

"I believe you."

Niamh gave Dean a gentle look, full of trust and a smile. The teenager had to blink, emotions still flying and sensitive. He and Jimmy still kept careful eyes on each other, Dean wondering if the man believed him. He was the one who had been kind enough to look past the gun and the bravado and let the boys stay. He had to believe him.

"I do too. But why's a police officer lying about you?"

"I don't know," Dean replied "I don't know her, I've never seen her before."

Jimmy sighed, sending a quick glance to the window before looking back to the teen in front of him. He thought for a moment, wondering.

"They'll be back. I'm sure of it. We'll just have to be careful, make sure no one sees either of you."

Dean nodded. He was going to get to the bottom of this. The strange feeling he felt when the woman had spoken was still there, tingling away. Dean knew there was something off about her, and he was going to find out what.

**/\/\**

John handed over the photo, reluctantly letting go as Pamela gently took it from his hand. She watched him for a moment before she looked at the photo, following his reaction. He was lost, that was for sure. Lost, scared and hurt – the worst possible combination of emotions a hunter could feel. She knew; she'd seen it all before. That kind of whirlwind inside you could tear a person apart. Pamela acknowledged the strength the man must have if he'd managed to stay sane for so long with his children missing.

She gave the photo a quick glance. A family – John's family. Him, a woman she assumed to be his wife and two young children. Just by touching the thick paper she could understand a lot. The people who had held this photo had looked at it with pain, grief and anger. Loss and confusion. There was a hint of remembrance, a touch of happiness and memories Pamela couldn't quite see. But that wasn't her problem – she had a job to do.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the previous people who had held the photo. John she sensed clearly, as he had been the last. Before that, Pamela could identify another. He looked at the photo with grief and loss, but also happiness and a love that even Pamela could not comprehend. The feeling was so strong it nearly knocked the psychic off track, but she continued focusing on this person. Dean. It was Dean she was tracking, she knew now. She could see his face as he stared at the photo of memories. She pushed past that, searched for what she was looking for. Casting out a psychic net, Pamela searched for Dean.

Nothing seemed to come. He was invisible, hiding from her view. But with the photo to focus on, she could stretch her net out further. In doing so, she felt a tiny spark within her. She grabbed onto it, pulled it in. As she cradled it within her mind, she knew this was who she was looking for. Now if only she could find where he was.

Flashes started to come, images jumbled together that made no sense. A street, a pistol, someone holding hands. Shining white wings, spread out and sheltering two silhouettes of children. Red fire, pale as if half washed away, surrounded the pair with burning light, a circle of protection to add to the wings' sanctuary. Brilliant blue eyes that stared with total compassion and trust. An angel flashed repeatedly, in and out and refusing to disappear. All else vanished as the angel, who's face she could not see in the shadows, pointed at her through the flashing light and dark. He spoke, words commanding and deep. Pamela felt pulled towards him, the words dragging her closer.

"Angels cannot protect them for long."

Repeated over and over, the words blurred together and began to lose their meaning. The light and dark continued to dart in and out, showing the angel before he disappeared. In his place was a shining white figure of a woman. Pamela reached out to touch her, only to recoil back as the figure looked at her. Black stone eyes stared down at her, lit with hatred and freezing cold. Still the words resounded in her head.

"Angel cannot protect them for long."

In a burst on light, the images vanished completely, leaving Pamela blinded for a moment. She reached out, this time with her physical hand, groping for anything in the darkness.

"Pamela? You okay?"

Bobby's worried voice cut through her stupor and the psychic blinked, clearing her head of the ringing as the angel's voice faded. The blackness began to clear, her eyes adjusting to normal light again. She made out the figures of Bobby and John, probably staring at her in confusion. There was a hand on hers; most likely Bobby's.

John started to speak, anxiousness tinging his voice, but Pamela silenced him with a hand. She waited until her vision had been restored to some semblance of normalcy before looking up at John and letting him speak.

"What did you see? Do you know where they are?" he asked, frustrated.

"I'm not sure. I saw images, flashed of people and things," Pamela said trying to make sense of it in her head. She recounted what she had seen, both men as confused as she was. It was John who eventually spoke.

"What the hell does that all mean?"

"I don't know."

Silence once more fell over the three as they contemplated what they knew. After a few moments, Bobby jumped up, surprising his companions.

"What did the angel say at the end?" he asked.

Pamela shrugged, giving him an odd glance, "Angel cannot protect them for long."

"And before he said angels, right?"

The psychic was beginning to see where this was going. She nodded as Bobby raced out, returning a few moments later with a map in his hands. He spread it out across the table, asking John where he'd been when the boys had run.

"Kansas."

Bobby focused on the state, finger tracing over the map. At last he gave a massive grin, pointing at one small spot.

"There."

John stared, and Pamela had to look over Bobby's shoulder in order to see. When she realised what her friend had found, she smiled.

"Angel, Kansas."

"Let's go," John said, standing up quickly "If Pamela's right, then they could be in danger."

"I agree."

Bobby thanked Pamela, who smiled and brushed him off.

"Go. Call me if you find them, will you?"

Bobby nodded as he ran for the door, John already gone. "When."

Pamela smiled as he disappeared. She hoped they were right, and she hoped that if there were any danger, that the hunters would get there in time to stop it.

She had a bad feeling about this.

**Please review, I live off those things!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Sorry about how short this chapter is. The next one will be longer, I promise. Thanks for all the reviews, you guys are awesome :D**

Dean wanted to check out the cops, follow them and find out just what they were up to, but Jimmy said it was safer to stay inside and out of sight. If there were some dangerous reason they wanted the boys, then it was obvious that Dean should stay out of their way. The kid had agreed, but reluctantly. He wanted to discover what was going on with the strange cops but his instinct to protect Sam was stronger, and Jimmy had used that instinct against the teenager.

Dean sat by the window for most of the day, watching in case the pair came back. He refused to speak to Niamh, too afraid that he'd say something he'd regret. And Jimmy wasn't on his favourite people list at the moment either. Despite the fact that man had covered for them, he was still someone Dean couldn't trust fully. There were few people that Dean had trusted with everything he had, and they had rapidly shrunk to one – Sam.

The car came back twice throughout the course of the afternoon. The first time it stopped across the street from the house. Dean dropped back away from view and watched surreptitiously as the blonde leaned her head out the window, blue eyes darting over the house and street. The second time they simply drove past, albeit slowly. Dean was sure there was something wrong with those two – they sure as hell weren't cops. And if they weren't, then he really didn't want to know what they really were. His mind only offered up supernatural suggestions, from shapeshifters to demons and everything in between. Each and every possibility scared him more than he'd care to admit. If they were some sort of monster, then he had to do whatever it took to protect Sam. That was his job, that was what he was supposed to do and that was what he was _going_ to do.

He had the option of finding a way to salt the entire house and protect all its occupants. Or he could simply make a circle and keep him and Sam inside, in case anyone decided to enter. He mulled over it as the sun began to set on the horizon, the night falling quickly over the streets of Angel. If he didn't protect Niamh and Jimmy, then he wouldn't be doing his other job – saving people. If they died because he only looked after himself and Sam, then he would never be able to live with the guilt. So now he just had to find a way of salting the entire house without alerting the suspicions of the owners. He was thinking of a possible way when Sam came up and sat next to him. Dean flicked his brother a glance, their eyes meeting for a moment. Sam looked awful. His eyes were half-closed with sleep, and he was still coughing a little from his sickness. There were dark circles under his eyes and his bangs left half his face in shadows.

"I'm tired."

"Go to sleep then."

"What are you gonna do?"

Dean shot another quick look out the window. The streetlights lit the street and houses, but there was no sign of the police car. No indication of anyone watching them, and Dean only had the slightest sensation of danger. He'd felt it since he'd arrived at Jimmy's house, so he dismissed it and stood up. He ruffled Sam's hair and the kid poked his tongue out. Dean smiled.

"I'll just be a minute. Go to sleep, you look like you're about to fall over."

Sam just nodded and headed for the couch. Dean watched him go, then walked to the kitchen to find the salt. He wasn't going to go to sleep until the entire house was secure.

He knew Niamh and Jimmy had already gone upstairs so he was safe to rummage around the kitchen for the salt. When he found some, he was disappointed. There was hardly any, certainly not enough to take care of all the windows and doors. He sighed. He'd have to make do.

He checked on Sam before going to salt the front door. The kid was already asleep, breathing softly and curled up tightly on his side with Dino clutched tightly to his chest. Certain that Sam was alright, he walked to the front door and laid a thin line of salt along the bottom. It was barely noticeable, just as Dean hoped it would be.

_One down, _Dean thought grimly to how many windows and doors there were still to cover. He couldn't forget upstairs. He turned to head to the window by the couch, where he'd been sitting for most of the day. As he did, the small sound of shattering glass echoed. Dean froze, gripping the salt tightly in his hand. His training and instincts kicked in a second later and he raced for Sam, only one thought ripping through him.

_Protect Sam._

He slid to a stop beside his brother, dropping to his knees and whipping out his pistol. He twisted, putting his back to the sleeping Sam and aiming the gun around at his surroundings. Nothing appeared, but a faint muffled shout drifted from upstairs.

_Can't do anything now, have to protect Sam._

It tore at him to leave Niamh and Jimmy defenceless and alone, after they had done all they could to make sure he did not end up like that. They'd taken him in and protected him, and now he was leaving them to whatever monster lay in wait upstairs. Dean swallowed. He'd deal with his guilt later. Right now he just had to do his most important job and look after his brother.

Silence fell, except for Dean's tense breathing and Sam's soft, even breaths. And then, breaking the fragile quiet darkness, was the slow footsteps of someone descending the stairs. Dean's fingers tightened around the pistol as a shadowy figure appeared on the stairs. When they reached the bottom they turned to face Dean, moonlight from the window splashing over their face.

The blonde 'cop' walked over, a smug smile on her face. Dean snarled lowly as he saw the blood on her hands.

"What did you do to them?"

The woman shrugged, "You of all people should be able to figure that out, Dean."

As the woman's eyes flashed black, Dean knew he was so freaking screwed. Niamh and Jimmy were dead, and so were he and Sam if he didn't do something. But what could he do? The bullets would do nothing to the demon, and he'd dropped the salt on the floor. If he moved to pick it up, the demon would attack. Dean backed up as far as he could, shielding Sam with his body.

Scuffing boots sounded from the doorway, and Dean shot a glance at the demon's partner standing there. He was surrounded with no way of stopping the demons if they chose to come closer. Which they did. The blonde took a few steps forward, closing the gap between her and Dean. He fired a shot into her chest, knowing it would do little good. It was the only thing he could do. The blonde barely hesitated as blood seeped into her shirt. She grabbed Dean by the neck and tossed him aside like a ragdoll, the teenager slamming into a far wall. He scrambled to get up, get back to Sammy.

But the demon was already there, kneeling by the sleeping figure. She ran a gentle hand through the boy's hair, which had Dean hissing in fury. _No one_ touched _his_ Sammy. Especially not some blonde demon bitch. Strong arms held him back from ripping the woman's head off with his bare hands, and Dean struggled in the second demon's grip.

He swore viciously, "Don't fucking touch him, bitch. Don't you dare touch him."

The blonde turned her head, smiling for a moment. She brushed Sam's cheek, leaving smeared bloodstains across his face. Then she grabbed him, hauling the boy over her shoulder in one fluid movement. Finally, Sam woke up.

Dean was proud of the way his brother fought, kicking and slamming fists into the demon's back. Even though he had no chance, he wasn't trained for this, he was doing everything he could.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled.

"Dean!"

He saw Sam's face briefly from over the demon's shoulder. He was terrified. Dean called out to him once more. But that was all he managed to get out before everything suddenly swirled together, in and out, pain erupting in the back of his head. The world went black around him.

**/\/\**

"How long til we reach..."

"I already told you, John. Tomorrow."

John sighed. He couldn't help but ask when he knew that his boys were so close. He looked out of the window, watching the dark road fly past him, trees making fast, flitting shadows from the moonlight. His silence lasted only a few minutes before he couldn't resist speaking again.

"I have a really bad feeling about this."

Bobby nodded, keeping his eyes on the road, "Me too. There's something going on in Angel."

"Can't you go any faster?"

This time Bobby scowled at him, "I want to find them to, John. Don't start getting all whiny."

John wisely shut up. In the silence, he began thinking about his kids again. He wondered if they were doing okay. The foreboding feeling that tightened his chest, made his heart feel like it was going to jump out of his chest at any second, made his entire body tingle with dread, was telling him the opposite. That his boys were in serious danger.

But there was nothing he could do now. Only wait and see.

**/\/\**

_Wake up Jimmy._


	13. Chapter 13

**Huge great long chapter here! Well, longer than most, if not all, the other chapters ;D Lots of revelations, angst, bashings, secrets, ect! Enjoy, and please review!**

The air was cold, the darkness tight around him. Had there been no chains securing his wrists above his head, the darkness would have done just as good a job at keeping him contained and unmoving. As Dean opened his eyes, he dreaded what he would see. But there was nothing to see – lack of light had the room in total blackness. He licked dry lips, swallowed and ignored the pain that flared as a result. That demon sure had one hell of a grip. His wrists were red raw and the dull edges of the thick metal cuffs that encircled them dug into his skin. Dean shifted a little, wincing at the pain. He felt for the floor with his feet, finding he could just stand on it if he stayed on his toes. It relieved the pressure on his wrists slightly, but his arms were dead weights once they no longer had to fully hold his weight. His head was pounding and he could feel the odd sensation of dried blood down the back of his neck.

It was then that Dean heard the faint coughing sobs he knew far too well. They were quiet and slightly muffled, but Dean could tell they were close by. Dean's anger started to flicker into being again, but he didn't dare let himself wonder what the demons had done to his little brother.

"Sammy?" he called.

"De...Dean?" Sam's weak voice came from in front of him, a little way off. Dean breathed a sigh of relief - he wasn't going crazy – and called out again.

"Sammy, are you okay?"

"M'scared, Dean."

The quiet terror in Sam's voice forced more anger to the surface and Dean had to fight it back down. He had to stay calm, for Sammy. His little brother needed him right now, needed him to be calm and sane, not scared out of his mind.

"I know, I know, Sam. Are you hurt?"

There was silence once more, and as it grew longer, second by second, Dean had to fight not only his anger but panic as well.

"Sam? Answer me Sam."

"No."

"Good," Dean sighed in relief, staring at where he thought the boy's voice was coming from "Are you tied up?"

"Yeah. I-I can't feel my hands or my feet. Dean, I wanna go home, I'm really scare-"

Blinding light ripped through the room which forced Dean to shut his eyes tightly against the glare. He heard Sam yelp in surprise. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust and the moment he felt safe opening them again, Dean did.  
Both the demons were there, the tall muscular one a few paces away from him and staring with cold pale green eyes. On the other side of the small square room (a basement, it appeared to be) Sam was sat on the floor with knees pulled up against his chest. His hands were tied behind his back with rope like his ankles were. By him, the blonde demon knelt. She looked at Dean with a half-smirk.

"Get the hell away from my brother," he snarled, tugging on the metal cuffs.

The demon put a hand on Sam's shoulder, making him flinch away from her. Dean spat curses he'd only ever heard his father say, and even then rarely. The blonde raised her eyebrow.

"You certainly live up to the all the talk about you, Dean Winchester. Foul mouth and all."

"Who are you, what do you want?" Dean hissed lowly.

"It's actually," the demon said "Nothing to do with you."

Dean stayed silent this time, keeping his eyes on Sam. His brother stared at him, tear tracks staining his cheeks and hair falling in front of his eyes. The demon continued, now looking at Sam as she spoke.

"Just need you two for a little persuasion."

She nodded to her partner as she stood up, and the male demon returned it slowly. The woman left the room, the door shutting with a quiet thud behind her. He gave Dean a calm look. Dean shot him a furious glare that didn't even show half of what he was feeling at that moment. The demon produced a camera from his long black coat and with his free hand, slammed a hard punch to Dean's face. The teenager's head whipped to the side under the force. He gasped but quickly bit his lip. Sam cried out and Dean met his scared gaze.

"S'okay, Sammy," Dean said as the demon landed another punch, this one sending his head into the hard wall behind it, a sudden flare of pain erupting. He couldn't keep back a sharp cry this time.

"Dean!"

**/\/\**

_Wake up Jimmy._

_Go away._

_Jimmy, you have to open your eyes. You have to wake up, _now_._

_Leave me alone._

_Then I will make you._

Jimmy bolted upright, panting hard and feeling like he'd just run a marathon. His arms and legs weren't working properly and felt wobbly and weak. He lifted his hands to see them shaking. He saw the dry blood coating them, and yelled hoarsely in surprise. Jumping back on the bed, Jimmy looked around in total horror. Blood spattered the walls, the floor – even the ceiling. There was so much blood, everywhere.

It all came rushing back to him in one swift moment. He remembered going to bed, then opening his eyes when he heard the sound of shattering glass. In the window, there had been a figure – the woman. He clearly remembered her walking towards him. And he remembered with perfect detail how she'd shoved her hands right inside his chest and tore at his insides.

Jimmy looked down, scratching at his blood-soaked t-shirt. There was a ragged hole in the centre, but the skin beneath was flawless, perfect. He rubbed his chest in stunned disbelief. There was no sign that anything had ever touched him last night – but the blood around him, covering him, said otherwise.

"Niamh," he whispered in shock, his gut feeling of fear shaking him to the core. He scrambled out of bed and ran from the room, running straight for Niamh's.

"Please let her be alright, please let her be alright," Jimmy prayed as he wrenched open her door and took in the scene.

He sank to his knees with a moan of horror, seeing the blood splattered across ever possible surface. On the bed, Niamh lay on her back. The scratches on her arm showed she'd fought back, but the gaping hole in her chest said she'd failed.

Head in his hands, Jimmy cursed God. For the first time, he was angry with Him and he wanted answers.

"Why did you do this?" he yelled, his voice breaking off at the end "Why?"

**/\/\**

"I'm looking for these boys," John said, holding up the most recent photos he had of Sam and Dean. They'd been taking turns with the camera, trying to get the silliest photo possible. In his, Dean was headbanging to some rock song, air guitar in hand. The picture of Sam showed the boy pulling his 'I just sucked a lemon' face, which always had Dean laughing.

The man he was showing them to, the owner of a local furniture shop, looked at the photos for a moment. He frowned, taking them and tilting his head ever so slightly.

"Yeah, I seen this one," he said, handing back the pictures and pointing at Dean "He came in lookin' for a job. Didn't give him one though, looked like a right street rat. Sent him on his way."

"Do you know anything else?"

The man shook his head and John sighed, turning to Bobby. The older man remained silent, giving him only a sad and sympathetic half-smile. As they turned to leave, the store owner stopped them.

"You say you're from the FBI?"

John admitted it was probably a little extreme, but being FBI meant you got questions answered quickly. Usually, at any rate.

"Yes."

"What'd these kids do?"

John stopped himself from sighing in frustration again. He shook his head instead and replied to the man's question, "Nothing you need to concern yourself with. Thank you for your time."

Bobby and John left the shop, the latter holding back on unleashing his anger building up inside. He had to find his boys, before something terrible happened. He had to find them.

**/\/\**

_Jimmy._

Jimmy started. He looked around, searching for whoever had spoken. But there was nothing but his housemate's dead body. He had to look away before he threw up. The smell of blood was overpowering, but he couldn't bring himself to move. After all, it'd been his fault, right? The cop (though Jimmy had serious doubts about her now) had been after the boys. He'd taken them in, brought them right into his home. And brought the death with them. He may as well have killed Niamh with his own hands.

_The boys_, Jimmy thought suddenly. He scrambled to his feet and made his slow, wobbly descent to the ground floor. He stumbled to the couch where they should have been sleeping. Should have, but weren't. There were obvious signs of a fight – things knocked over, a rather large crack in the far wall, and blood dripped over the carpet. Dean's pistol lay by the cracked wall. No sign of the brothers.

_Of course_, Jimmy thought bitterly _They were what those psychos were after. We just got in the way._

He collapsed against the doorframe, tears finally starting to overflow. Tears of anger, grief, loss and fury welled up and spilled out onto his face, the floor. As he choked on sobs, he heard the strange, echoing voice again.

_Jimmy Novak._

"What the hell do you want?" he screamed, certain he was going insane. After all, one didn't just have their chest ripped apart by some _normal_ woman, did they? One didn't hear voices in his head unless he was completely crazy. If he was going crazy, then why not go all the way and talk to his stupid head-voice.

_I can save her._

Jimmy coughed, laughing through his tears. The voice thought it could bring Niamh back. Right. He was loopy, he was. Completely. Maybe he should run down to the police station and tell them what happened. They'd have a field day with that.

"Some crazy woman stuck her hand in my chest and ripped it up from the inside, but I'm fine now. She did it to Niamh too, but she's not alive anymore. And she kidnapped two homeless kids who tried to hold me up. Oh yeah, and I'm hearing voices too. Please lock me up," Jimmy chuckled humourlessly as tears continued to fall.

_You're not insane. My name is Castiel. And I brought you back._

"Great. My voice has a name."

**/\/\**

The police station was the next place they tried.

"You're FBI?" the woman behind the reception desk asked, looking at the two men critically. Bobby gave her a tired, annoyed look.

"Yes. We're looking for these two boys," he said, handing her the photo.

The small greying woman took one quick look at the pictures before frowning in confusion. She looked up, but over the John's shoulder toward the door. The swooshing sound of it opening caught John and Bobby's attention and they turned.

"Cassie, you went out looking for those two, didn't you?"

The blonde woman walked over to the receptionist and two 'agents'. She took the photos and gave them a quick look.

"Yeah, yeah I did. Why?" she asked, looking at the hunters finally. When she caught sight of John she visibly looked surprised, but hid it smoothly. John's suspicions instantly shot up but didn't let anything show.

"We're looking for them," he said "FBI."

"What does the FBI want with two runaways?"

It was Bobby's turn to interject, "What do you want with them?"

The Cassie's already odd smile froze and she said icily, "They shot two people."

John had to fight down the urge to stare at the woman with his mouth open. Dean would never shoot anyone. Not a person. Monsters, now those he was good with shooting down. But two people?

"What do _you_ want them for?" Cassie asked.

John smiled a dark, angry smile in reply, barely trusting himself to speak. But he managed to speak without killing her.

"That's way above your level, miss."

The blonde glared daggers. John smiled smugly, "We'll need whatever information you have on the boys."

"Sure," Cassie said "Not that there's much."

"Anything'll do."

"Maggie can get it for you. I have somewhere I need to be."

And with that she turned on her heel and walked out of the station with long, determined strides. John watched her go, burning her face into his memory and making the mental note to find out just who, or what, she was.

**/\/\**

Click. Click. Click.

Dean opened his eyes blearily to face the incessant clicking sound. It was really pissing him off. He wasn't in the best of moods already, either. After all, he'd just been beaten to near death by a freaking demon. He wasn't exactly happy.

It took him a moment to understand what the demon was doing. By the time it registered in his brain, the door to the basement had swung open and a very pissed off blonde demon bitch had entered. She stalked towards her partner, obviously fuming and desperate for her anger to be set free.

"What happened?" the male demon asked, the first time he'd spoken. His voice was dark, low and gravelly – Dean thought it sounded like grit under tyres.

"Guess who's in town?"

The taller demon didn't reply, and the blonde exploded with fury.

"John fucking Winchester! He's not supposed to turn up!"

Dean could have died with relief. His father was here. Yesterday that would have scared the crap out of him, but now he just wanted his dad to come and get him and Sam the hell out of this hellhole.

"I thought that was the general idea of kidnapping these two?" the male asked, gesturing to semi-conscious Dean and quietly crying Sam "That he comes to save them, we kill him?"

That didn't sound so great to Dean. In fact, it sounded very, very bad.

"He's not supposed to be here _now_," the blonde said irritably "_We're_ supposed to get him here."

The man rolled his eyes, "Does it really matter? He's here, let's kill him. Makes the plan that much shorter."

The woman scowled and gestured to the two boys, "Now we've got these two to deal with as well."

"I've got his photos," the taller demon pointed at Dean "May as well go on with our plan for a little longer, if it'll stop you whining."

The blonde grinned and threw a hug around her partner. Dean rolled his eyes, which managed to hurt. He looked at Sam through half-shut bruised eyes. The kid was still crying, almost silently, his voice hitching every few breaths. He still wasn't completely over his illness. Dean was so caught up in checking on Sam that he didn't notice the blonde demon walking over to him. She knelt beside him, gesturing for her friend to follow. Before Dean could draw a breath, she grabbed Sam's head in one hand, lifting it to face her. Dean growled a warning but she ignored it. A second later she curled her hand into a fist and smashed it into Sam's face.

Sam cried out and Dean swore, struggling with the chains that bound him. Again and again the woman hit him, punching and slapping. Dean shouted curses, swore revenge, kicked at the wall in an effort to free himself.

"Sammy!"

At last the demon stopped, and let Sam drop limply onto the floor. He thumped down on his side, blood staining his face. The woman stepped back and let her partner move closer. Dean felt sick as he watched the demon take photos of his beat-up baby brother. He wanted to rip the throats out of these sick psychos, but could do nothing but yell and struggle.

"I'm gonna make you regret doing that. I will tear you apart until there's nothing left," Dean swore as the two demons backed away. The blonde smiled at him patronizingly.

"Have fun with that," she said as she walked to the door, her partner following.

Dean waited until the door shut with a dull thud before calling out this brother again.

"Sam? Sammy, can you hear me?"

Sam groaned which was enough for Dean. He bit his lip and resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall behind him. His body hurt enough as it was.

He held onto the hope that his dad was coming. It was all he had left.


	14. Chapter 14

**Another chapter means more mystery (Maybe a little bit :D), brotherly love and some awesome John 'WTF' and 'OMG' moments. Oh yeah, and insane Jimmy and angry Cas. Yay! Have fun, enjoy and review! *istotallynothyperrightnowlol***

When Cassie (or Officer Young, as John and Bobby soon found out) returned, the hunters were looking over the pitiful amount of evidence there was on the shootings. She walked up to them as John flicked over a glossy photo of one of the victims, thirty five year old paramedic Hannah Walters. She'd been shot in the chest twice with a small calibre bullet. John knew it matched the same gun Dean had taken with him – but Dean wouldn't shoot anyone. John just _knew_ he wouldn't. There was something about this 'case' and the woman running it that didn't make sense.

"Both the victims say their attacker was a teenage boy with a younger accomplice," Cassie Young said, dropping into a chair opposite the two hunters and leaning back "We've got their descriptions, photos. Now we just need to find them."

John gave her a wary look, "You're sure they did it?"

"Yep," the blonde said as she leaned forward. She changed her tone as she continued – more serious and challenging, "Listen. Angel's a small town. People know each other. If Walters or Jameson didn't know their attackers, they were out-of-towners. And these two boys," she gestured to the pictures of Sam and Dean "Are the only newcomers lately. Plus, they match the description. And I got a report in a couple days back when someone got robbed at gun point. I'm damn sure it's these two. I may be new to Angel, but I know this town too well."

John stared at her, unbelieving. He didn't trust a single word that came out of her mouth. But before he could say anything to her there was a commotion from the front of the building. Cassie Young was out of her chair and racing towards it before John and Bobby could barely blink. They too followed.

In the front doorway a young man was collapsed in almost-hysterics, crying and covered in blood. Cassie and another cop were helping him to his feet. When they couldn't support his shaking body, Bobby stepped in to help. The stranger didn't even try to stand on his own; he just let Bobby keep him on his feet. He was too busy sobbing into the man's shoulder.

"What the hell is going on?" John and the second cop, an older man in his early forties, asked almost simultaneously. Cassie looked at the obviously distressed man with recognition.

"That's Jimmy Novak. I talked to him yesterday about the kids."

Bobby and John exchanged glances. Had he said anything about them? Anything that might be useful?

Jimmy was too incoherent to be of any use. Bobby sat him down on a chair and held him by the shoulder to keep him from falling off. Jimmy sobbed into his blood-covered hands, muttering random words under his breath. Mostly he said 'Go away' which intrigued John. He knelt down to Jimmy's eye level, keeping his steady gaze on the hysterical man.

"Jimmy? Jimmy Novak, what happened?"

He didn't seem to hear the hunter; he now had his hands over his ears and was rocking back and forth. If John didn't know any better, he would have thought the man was insane. But by the looks of shock and horror on the cops' faces around him, it was obvious this wasn't normal behaviour.

"Shut up!" Jimmy suddenly screamed, making everybody jump "Leave me alone!"

John shot a confused glance to Bobby, who returned it with just as much bewilderment. What in the name of hell was going on?

**/\/\**

_Jimmy, don't ignore me. I can bring her back, I can save her._

He forced himself not to listen. He really didn't want to go insane. Although considering the circumstances, Jimmy figured he'd be forgiven for going absolutely mad. After all, people lost it after seeing much less than he'd been through.

_You can't just forget I'm here. Do NOT ignore me, Jimmy Novak._

"Shut up," he muttered as he stumbled into the police station. They could help him, right? They could fix this and stop the freaking voice in his head from torturing him. He didn't realise he was crying until he found himself being held up by an older man. Jimmy let his legs collapse beneath him – he just couldn't do it anymore. Didn't _want_ to do it anymore.

"Jimmy? Jimmy Novak..."  
_  
Listen to me. _The voice was growing angrier _There are other lives at stake. You are the only one who can save them. You have to let me...  
_  
"What happened?"

"Shut up!" he screamed "Leave me alone!"  
_  
No. You need to understand what's going on. It's not just about you, or her. It's bigger than anything you can imagine. Dean and Sam Winchester must live. You cannot fathom how important this is._

**/\/\**

"Deeeean?" Sam moaned pitifully, shifting slightly on the cold floor. Dean could just see his brother's face under the blood and his dirty brow fringe. His eyes were slowly closing as he whimpered with pain.

"Sammy? Don't you dare close your eyes."

Sam jerked awake, choking back a tiny sob and replaced it with a coughing fit. As much as Dean hated hearing Sam sound so scared and sick, it was a sign that he was still alive and he felt a surge of relief.

"I wanna go home," Sam mumbled.

"Me too. But Dad's coming and he's gonna get us out of here," Dean said. He hated making promises without certainty he could fulfil them. He hated the look on Sam's face when he couldn't come through. He'd promise him that Dad would be home, that Dad wouldn't be mad, that everything was going to be fine. And then he'd have to see a disheartened, upset little brother. But their father was here. He would find them – he always found Dean when he had to hide on hunts. He _had_ to find them.

"Daddy's coming?" Sam sounded a mix between relieved, happy and almost unbelieving. Dean managed a small smile, even though his face hurt like a bitch whenever he twitched.

"Yeah."

"I miss Daddy."

"So do I."

There was a pause as Dean watched Sam try to move into a better position on the ground. It was difficult, with his wrists and ankles tied so tightly. After a few minutes of whimpers, struggles and a whole lot of choked back tears, Sam managed to get into a sitting position. He sat against the wall, almost doubled over.

"Sammy?"

Sam looked up at him, tears shining in his eyes.

"It's gonna be okay. Promise."

**/\/\**

"Jimmy, calm down!" Cassie said as the hysterical man kicked away the chair and stormed to the far side of the room. He leaned against the wall on the verge of collapsing again, trying to punch himself in the head. John was by his side in a moment and restrained him, pulling both Jimmy's arms behind his back. The man was no match for John but struggled nonetheless. Cassie ran over, grabbing Jimmy's head in her hands.

"What happened? Jimmy?"

Flickering his eyes open, Jimmy caught sight of the blonde and, in true madman style, panicked and promptly tried to kick her in the face while using John to brace himself. He managed to land a kick to her chest and sent her reeling backwards onto the floor. John wrestled the screaming man to the floor.

"Murderer! You murdered her! It was you!"

John stared at the suspicious cop, who looked stunned. He wasn't buying the act. Quietly, under Jimmy's screaming accusations, he muttered one word.

"Christo."

Cassie was facing only him and Jimmy. Bobby was behind her, as was the other officer. Jimmy was too caught up in hurling abuse at the woman to notice her eyes roll to black. But John saw it. The pair locked eyes, the blonde – demon – smirking slightly. She knew. She knew who he was, and what he was here for. She'd know all along and had been playing him for a fool. She certainly knew where his kids were, and John was damn well going to find out.

He had no doubt that whoever this Jimmy guy was talking about had been murdered by the demon. What she'd done to him to make him this insane he had no idea, but that wasn't his concern. His concern was finding his kids, whatever it took.

The demon's eyes rolled back to normal. She lost her smug smirk and her expression changed back to the appropriate one of shock and horror. She hauled herself up from the ground and stepped back as Bobby jumped in to help John restrain the flailing, terrified man.

"She's a demon," John whispered to his friend as Bobby locked the other cop's handcuffs around Jimmy's wrists to keep him from beating himself or anyone else up. He nodded.

"The boys?"

John shot the blonde demon a quick, dark glance, "She knows. She has them."

**Oooooh, scary. Johnny wants his kids back, like_, now_. Srsly. Lol Imma gonna shut up now, please review! **


	15. Chapter 15

**I'll try to get another chapter in before school starts in a few days, but for now here's this chapter. Hope you enjoy it, please review! **

John took Jimmy to an interrogation room, Bobby keeping the demon away from him with the old 'It's FBI business'. John sat the frantic man down, looking him in the eye. He had never seen such terror in another's eye before – he was wild.

"Tell me what happened."

It took Jimmy a long time to calm down enough to be able to speak coherently about the past events. When he did speak, his voice trembled.

"Young came. She's... shut up, leave me alone... she's the one who... God, leave me alone already. Came in through... the window with... her partner. LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!"

John jumped at Jimmy's outburst, but the man continued on as if nothing had happened.

"You're gonna think I'm crazy... she..."

"Trust me, whatever you say, I've heard stranger."

Jimmy looked up at him, eyes wide with pain and confusion, "She... reached inside me, with her hands. Tore me up. Niamh too."

"Who's Niamh?" John asked, keeping his face neutral and blank as he imagined what this man had gone through.

"H-housemate."

"Have you seen two boys, Dean and Sam?" John was hopeful, but kept the emotion out of his voice. He couldn't afford to let his guard down, in case he was wrong and this guy knew nothing about his kids. He couldn't let himself feel false hope only for it to be torn down.

"Dean? Sam? She took them. That's why she came, to take them."

John forced back a smile. So he'd been right; she did have his boys. The bitch was going to pay for touching his kids when he got the chance. He was going to send her back to Hell screaming. He stood up to leave – grab that bitch and make her give back his kids – but a hand gripping his jacket tightly stopped him. He sat down again, looking at the lost and scared face of Jimmy. He knew the man was traumatised beyond belief but the words that came out of Jimm'ys mouth surprised even John.

"I-I'm hearing things. A voice."

"You're hearing voices?"

"No," Jimmy paused, holding onto John tighter "A voice. One. Castiel."

The name meant nothing to John, but he knew that something didn't add up with this case. People freaked out when they saw demons, but they didn't suddenly start hearing voices, especially voices that had names. Castiel. He made a mental note to ask Bobby about the name; maybe he'd know something. He pried Jimmy's hands off his jacket and left the room, hearing the man drop to his knees as the door shut, muttering for the voice to _just shut up_.

"Well?" Bobby asked as he and John moved to a quieter place, where they wouldn't be overheard. John glanced at his friend before he contemplated speaking. Bobby was, to put it bluntly, exhausted. He hadn't slept in days and he looked it too. John was pretty sure he looked tired out of his mind as well, because he sure as hell felt it. The last week or so had been the toughest he'd ever faced and sleep hadn't exactly been forthcoming.

But they couldn't worry about sleep when his boys, his Dean and his Sam, were God knew where with a demon. For all he knew they were already dead. He shook his head, banishing the thought. He'd come this far – he was going to get them back.

"Apparently the demon was there last night, broke in and took the boys," he said "It killed his housemate and, in his own words, 'she reached inside me, with her hands. Tore me up.'"

Bobby frowned, asking the question they were both thinking, "Then why isn't he dead?"

John shrugged, feeling exhaustion fall over him. He couldn't take this anymore.

"I don't know. But he says he's hearing a voice in his head. It calls itself Castiel?" he said, the name becoming a question as John gave Bobby a quizzical look. The hunter shook his head.

"It's not familiar. Did he say what it was telling him?"

It was John's turn to shake his head. He turned to head back to the interrogation room. He had to get Jimym Novak out of here and away from the demon. If she knew that he had survived her attack, then he was a danger she couldn't afford to leave alive. He knew she had killed this Niamh, he knew she'd taken the boys and he _knew_ she wasn't normal. The demon had no choice but to get rid of the danger to herself.

John reached the room just as the demon was about to open the door and walk inside. John stopped her, his hand over hers on the door handle. They locked eyes, both glaring with utter hatred. She could see what he was doing and she wasn't going to stand for it.

"Novak comes with us. We have more questions for him," John said.

"You can ask them here," Cassie replied with a bitter tone "He stays here."

John leaned in close, so close their foreheads were almost touching. He could sense her slight fear at being so close to the famed hunter. He could see it in her eyes, the way they flashed as he spoke softly so no one else could hear.

"What, so you can kill him? You failed last time. You don't get a second chance."

"You aren't going to get them back, John Winchester," the demon whispered with an arrogant smirk "You can't save them. So you know what? Take Novak. He's insane – he can't tell you anything. Good luck getting those boys back."

"The next time I see you, it'll be inside a devil's trap," John murmured "Begging for your pathetic life."

He felt something being pressed into his palm and he closed his hand around it, not daring to look away from Cassie's pale-as-ice blue eyes to see what it was. The demon spoke quietly before pushing him away.

"The only ones begging for their life is your little baby boys, and when I'm done, you'll be begging too."

She stalked away before John could retaliate. And he wanted to, his finger flexing in and out of a fist, jaw tensing. Bobby saw his friend's distress and was by his side in a flash, hand on his shoulder to calm him down before he did anything stupid.

"Get Novak," John said through gritted teeth, staring at where Cassie had disappeared.

Bobby ducked into the room, returning with the slightly calmer man a few seconds later.

"Let's get the hell out of here," John said, walking for the door, Bobby following a few steps behind dragging Jimmy along by the arm.

Nobody stopped them as they left the police station. They just stared in shock and fear.

Outside in the sunlight, John had to blink as his eyes readjusted. Tears were stinging at them, wanting to be released – as anger, sadness, fury, grief. Anything, as long as they fell. But John held them back as he reached the Impala and flung open the driver's side door. Suddenly, he remembered something had been given to him. He looked down as he uncurled his tight fist and stared. Crumpled pieces of thick paper lay in hand, dark, blurry images displayed on them. He looked at one more closely, smoothing it out.

There was his boy, his little boy. His Sam was crying, tear tracks staining his cheeks, making clearer lines in the blood that was splattered across his face like some sort of sick horror show. Cuts laced his cheekbone, above his eyes, his jawline, and John instantly thought of the little gold ring that Cassie wore on her right hand. A thin line of blood fell from his nose to his chin. And Sam just stared. Not at the camera, but through it. Like he knew. Like he knew who was going to be seeing these photos. His hazel eyes, innocent for so long, were now pained and terrified, hurt and lost.

John didn't realise he was on the ground until Bobby was there kneeling in front of him, shaking him and asking what the hell was going on. John, slumped against the car, just let his hand go limp and the crumpled photos roll out of his grip. Bobby picked them up, unfolded them, flicked through them with an ever-increasing look of hatred upon his face. He tried to say something but his rage stopped all words.

John took back one of the photos. It was Dean, arms chained above his head and holding him fast to a wall. He'd been beaten black and blue, blood seeping out from cuts across his face. He hadn't had a chance, held back by chains. It was a cowardly thing to do, and John hated how defeated his son looked. So goddamn defeated, like he just didn't want to do this anymore. He couldn't take it anymore; the guilt, the pain, the grief, the suffering, the yelling and the fights. His eyes said nothing, unlike Sam's. His eyes were blank green, emotionless and glazed. The only thing John could see was exhaustion. Physical and mental exhaustion.

"I'm coming, boys," John muttered quietly as he caught sight of something scribbled on the back of the photo. He flipped it over and read.  
_  
They're begging, John Winchester._

He closed his eyes. It was just all too much. Everything was falling on him all at once like a rockslide and he was drowning in it.

"John," Bobby said, the sound of his voice making the hunter open his eyes. The older man was showing him something – the backs of all the photos. Each had a message scrawled on them in small neat letters. Bobby laid them out on the ground until they formed what he was trying to show his friend – a message. John put down his photo at the beginning, completing the message.

_They're begging, John Winchester._

_They want to go home._

_You want to stop this?_

_Take their place._

_Come to me before three days time. _

_Or you can watch them die._

**/\/\**

Dean couldn't bear to see Sam to scared and alone. He was huddled back against the wall as far as he could, arms around his legs and head resting on his knees. Dean could hear his little brother hiccupping breaths as he tried not to cry.

"Sam?"

The kid looked up, eyes shining with unshed tears and fear.

"See if..." he paused as his voice gave out. He swallowed, his dry throat aching as he tried again "See if you can get over here."

Sam nodded meekly and tried to shuffle towards his brother on his butt. It was slow going, but after about ten minutes of shuffling and kicking off the ground with his bound feet, he made it to Dean's side. Dean looked down as far as he his arms chained above his head would allow. He couldn't quite see Sammy properly, but it was better for the both of them if they were close. Sam felt safer, Dean felt more able to defend his little brother. Sam nestled against Dean's legs defensively, although Dean wasn't sure which one of them he was trying to protect.

Dean managed a smile as he heard Sam start humming quietly. He recognised the tune instantly – after all, it was one of his favourites.

"Where'd you learn that one?"

"Daddy likes that song," Sam said softly, then continued. Dean let him hum for a few more moments before joining in with the lyrics, albeit weakly.

"Carry on my wayward son," he sang quietly, and Sam smiled as he kept on humming "There'll be peace when you are done."

Dean could almost hear the song playing as he closed his eyes, static radio music filling his ears. He could see his dad writing in his journal, little baby Sammy on the floor behind him playing with a very new Dino. Sam picked up the stuffed toy and threw it, much to Dean's amusement. He heard his own childish laughter over the music as Sammy started crying. John quickly dropped what he was doing and picked up Sam, rocking him in his arms as he tried to get him to stop crying.

"It's okay, Sammy," he said, retrieving the toy and giving it back to his baby son "Look, here he is."

Sam giggled happily, all tears forgotten as he grabbed Dino. As Sam yawned, John started singing softly along to the song on the radio.

"Carry on my wayward son," he sang "There'll be peace when you are done."

He turned to Dean and smiled. Dean grinned back as his father glanced at Sam and saw the boy was sleeping.

"Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more."

Dean opened his eyes quickly, pushing back the memory and the tears. He wasn't surprised that he remembered something from so long ago – the few months just before and after his mother's death were extremely vivid in his mind.

John hadn't called his youngest 'Sammy' since he was just over a year old. He hadn't smiled in God knew how long. Dean swallowed, forcing back tears as Sam looked up at him with worry.

"Dean?"

"S'okay. Keep going if you want."

Sam nodded and started humming again. And as much as it hurt to say the words, sing those few lines, Dean did so. Because someone had to sing it for Sammy. Someone had to look after him and stop him crying and make sure everything was okay.

"Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more.


	16. Chapter 16

**I said I would try to get another chapter in before the start of school but I didn't think I'd be this quick :D I had nothing else to do really and I was motivated so I continued. Two chapters in a day, wow! Lol, enjoy and don't worry, John's figuring it all out. Slowly, but he's getting there.**

The voice didn't bother him for the entire car trip with the FBI agents. Jimmy was glad that he didn't have to listen to that insistent voice repeating itself over and over again, but the silence also gave him time to think about Niamh.

He forgot about the agents as he curled up on the backseat, covering his head in his cuffed hands. He was sure he looked utterly pathetic, but Niamh was dead. She wasn't coming back, she was dead. Heart stopped, chest torn apart, blood soaked dead. He was never going to see her smile again. Hearing her laugh, curled up next to her watching TV – he was never going to do any of that again. And it was all his fault.

He heard someone calling his name and he lifted his head to see the older agent looking at him from the front seat.

"Where do you live?"

Jimmy mumbled his address, thinking of all the blood and death that splattered the walls and the pain that he had almost been able to feel when he'd raced into Niamh's room – not his own pain, her excruciating, rib-splitting agony. It had tainted the air, made it hard to breathe. Unless that had just been his own chest heaving as he tried to breathe through his choking sobs.

Two minutes later the car stopped and Jimmy sat up to see his house. The two agents were getting out, heading towards his home. They were going to find Niamh's body.

He fell back down onto the seat, and sobbed his heart out. It was all his fault.

_But you can change it._

The voice was back.

**/\/\**

Pushing open the door to Jimmy's house, John flinched at the scent and taste of blood and death the air in the house contained. He walked inside, seeing the clean, neat hall in front of him. He let Bobby pass him, headed towards the stairs, as he looked into the first room he came to. He ducked inside when he saw the carnage.

Someone had started a fight here. The room was a mess with things thrown here and there, tossed about like nothing. There was a large crack in one of the walls and when John moved closer he saw a familiar object lying nearby. He picked up the pistol, turning it over in his hands. Dean had tried to fight back – of course he would, he was a hunter – but the demons had been too strong, and a bullet wouldn't affect them in the slightest.

John moved over to the couch. Blankets were in a messed up heap on the floor, and some were lying on the couch itself. On the ground, John could see blood drops staining the carpet. He crouched down to pick something up. Tattered, dirty but no longer broken, he held Dino in his hands and just stared at it. The green stuffed dinosaur seemed to stare back at him with its beady little green eye – the other was long gone when Sam had been in the stage of putting everything in his mouth.

He clearly remembered pulling out his gun. He could see himself aiming it at Sam, right between his eyes, anger clouding his mind with thoughts of how good life was going to be without Sam. He remembered thinking that without Sam, he and Dean could just hunt without this distraction. He wouldn't have to deal with Sam's habits and tendencies, the arguments with Dean and the overwhelming feeling that he wasn't doing anything right – all of that would be gone.

But then he'd thought of Dean; really thought. In a split second he'd realised he was completely lost. Here he was, standing in front of his youngest with a gun pointed at the boy's head. The look in Sam's eyes... he'd been so scared. He knew his father shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't be wanting his own son dead. There was something seriously messed up in his brain, John knew, and so he had turned the gun away.

And then they'd run away. Sam was gone, just like he'd wanted. But it took the total shock of losing both his boys for him to realise he didn't want Sam gone. He didn't want his little boy out of his life forever.

"_Tell me, how close were you to shooting Sam?"_

"_You want him dead. You love him so much you want him six feet under with Mum."_

John held the toy against his chest along with Dean's pistol, "God, I'm going to get you two back if it fucking kills me."

"John!"

The hunter's head snapped up at the sound of his name. He got to his feet and headed up the stairs towards Bobby's voice. He passed an open door and glanced inside. He wished he hadn't. Being a hunter meant he saw a lot of things he would rather not have, but the amount of blood, and the way it was tossed across the room sickened him. It arced up and painted the ceiling with bright crimson spatters, evidence of how powerful this 'death' had been.

Bobby was still calling him so John continued on. He found his friend waiting for him outside another room. He had two familiar duffle bags slung over his shoulder.

"Found them in the bathroom," he said, then gestured for John to look inside the room "Take a look."

John did so, and winced. It was similar to the scene in the first room, only this time there was a body. A beautiful young woman with pale red hair, grey green eyes open in full terror. Scratches lined her arms, testament to her valiant but failed struggle. A gaping hole slightly bigger than the size of John's fists put together was set in her chest, gore and blood staining everything around it. The dried red liquid adorned the walls, floor and ceiling, plus basically every object in the room.

"Her name's Niamh," John remembered, whispering the name quietly. This was the woman who, along with Jimmy, had looked after his boys. They'd been here, they'd stayed here and she'd looked after them. And because of that, she was now cold, stiff and dead.

He looked away. Jimmy had been right about one thing; by the way her ribs were splayed outwards it seemed that something had torn her apart from the inside out. The demon had reached right inside and just pulled everything out.

_We'll get justice for you _John thought as he and Bobby turned away to head back to the car, gripping Dino and the pistol tightly _Thank you. We'll get justice._

**/\/\**

Dean wasn't sure how he managed it, but he must have been asleep because when the door slammed open, he jerked in surprise and his eyes flashed open. If he had it hadn't done much, Dean mused, as he was still exhausted and felt like he could sleep for a month or more. Maybe a year. He felt Sam tense and slide behind his leg as the blonde demon stormed into the room. She was in uniform now and Dean wondered what she'd been doing at the station. Conning innocent people into believing she was human. A sudden thought occurred to him. Did the cops know about Jimmy and Niamh yet? If they were dead, then maybe she'd been at his house, covering up what she'd done and pointing them in the right direction. Which possibly could be him and Sammy. That was if she planned to ever let them go. If she managed to get their father, she could hand them into the cops and they would be separated and sent away.

Dean shook his head. He wasn't going to think like that. He had to be strong for Sam. He had to think that Dad was coming. Because he wasn't sure how long he or Sam could last in this hellhole.

The demon stalked over to the boys, barely surprised by the fact Sam had moved. She reached down to grab Sam and Dean reacted with lightning speed. He swung out one foot, sending his boot slamming up into her chin. She staggered backwards, almost falling. Dean muttered to Sam to keep close but away from his feet in case he was hit. The demon regained her balance and glared daggers at Dean, the fury in her eyes nothing compared to the utter agony racing up and down Dean's arms and sides. Kicking out had meant he'd had to let his weight drop quickly onto the cuffs. Pain screamed along his nerves and Dean had to bit his lip to keep from screaming along with it. His wrists couldn't take much more of this punishment. But he gave the demon a dark, hate-filled glare that, if looks could kill, would have her burning back in Hell in two seconds flat.

The woman advanced again and Dean kicked out, this time unable to stop a squeak-turned-groan of pain. He missed and slammed back into the wall heavily. Sammy was his responsibility; protecting Sammy was the only thing that mattered. The door opened again and the second demon walked in. He came over to help, dodging a kick from Dean and pinning the boy's legs to the wall. Dean writhed, trying everything he could to get the man off him. But the demon was solid and heavy – Dean may as well have been trying to move a boulder. Dean could only watch over the man's shoulder as the blonde bitch grabbed Sam by the arm and dragged him over to the other side of the room. He yelled as he heard Sammy crying in pain.

"You bitch! I will end you! You touch him again and I swear I'll do whatever it takes to make sure your head ends up on a fucking stick!"

"Watch your mouth," the woman laughed teasingly "Wouldn't want little Sammy here to learn some words he shouldn't."

"Nobody calls him Sammy. Don't call him Sammy."

The male demon stepped away, freeing Dean. But it was too late to do anything. All he could do was watch helplessly now. The muscular demon handed his companion something he'd pulled from a pocket in his long black coat. It was another camera, only this time it wasn't a still image, it was video. The blonde took the camera and flicked it on, turning it onto Sam. The kid was hiding in the corner of the room, sobbing and crying for Dean, for Daddy.

"You want Daddy?"

"Help me!"

Dean could see the glee on the demon's face and let loose another string of threats. Sam was looking at him through his bangs, eyes terrified as the demon took hold of his chin and turned his head to face her and the camera.

"Say hello to Daddy, Sammy," she said softly, almost gently, still tauntingly.

"Daddy?" Sam sounded so broken, it sent a stab of pain through Dean at the sound of it. God, the kid just wanted his dad, wanted this nightmare to be over.

"Yeah. Daddy's gonna see this. You wanna say something to Daddy?"

Sam looked directly at the camera, turning to full force of his scared, begging eyes onto who would be watching the video.

"Daddy, I wanna go home. Come and get me, I wanna go home. M'scared."

He started crying again at which point the demon backed away. She swung the camera around to face Dean, smirking as she walked towards him.

"You got something you wanna tell your daddy?" she asked mockingly.

Dean's gaze flickered to the video camera for a split second. He could say anything he wanted now, he could tell his father what he really thought – that he was scared out of his mind and, like Sam, he just wanted to go home. But that was what the bitch wanted, Dean knew. So he glared at the demon instead.

"You leave Sam alone, you hear me? Otherwise you'll have me and Dad to deal with. Don't. Touch. Him."

The woman laughed and shut off the device, handing it back to her partner. They walked from the room, the door shutting with a final-sounding thud. As the thud echoed away, Sam's crying filled the silence.

"Dean, is Daddy coming? I wanna go home," the boy choked out the words, coughing fits interjecting between nearly every one.

"Yeah, he's coming, Sammy. He's coming, so just hold on. It's gonna be okay, everything's gonna be okay."

**Please review, every one that I get increases my confidence and honestly? They really are crack XD**


	17. Chapter 17

**Sorry for the long wait, school started last week and already I'm exhausted! Honestly, homework first day back? Anyway, I'll see if I can finish this up quickly. It is almost over, a few chapters to go. And yes, the Sammy/Dean angst/bash ups will end! This is the last one, I promise! There'll be a lot more trust issue stuff later, and yes, happy stuff! So stay tuned :D Thanks for all the amazing reviews, I love you guys :D Honestly, you people make me feel loved. Hugs!**

When they arrived back at the motel, Jimmy was dead to the world, sprawled out on the back seat. Bobby hauled him inside and dumped him on one of the beds, John locking the door behind them. The hunters glanced at each other, silent. There wasn't much to say.

"I'll look up Castiel," Bobby said, looking away.

John nodded, dropping onto second bed and staring at Jimmy intently, mainly so he didn't have to face Bobby anymore. He didn't want to argue, have to say anything. He knew Bobby knew - that wasn't holding it together and sooner or later he was going to snap, break, and everything was going to fall apart.

"You reckon he's lost it?" John asked absently, changing the subject to the sleeping man in front of him. The subject of their conversation twitched, rolled over with a fearful mumble.

"Maybe. But to come up with a name for the voice, that isn't exactly normal is it?"

Just as John opened his mouth to speak again Jimmy bolted upright, staring blankly ahead with wide eyes, panting heavily. He held up a hand to stop John from speaking.

"Castiel."

"What about him?" Bobby asked him, walking closer.

"I know... I know who... what he is," Jimmy turned the full force of his scared, awe-filled eyes onto Bobby, John glad he didn't have to be subjected to that. It was probably lethal.

"What? What is he?"

Jimmy paused, trying to get the words out. It took him a moment, but he finally managed to speak coherently.

"He says he's... an Angel of the Lord."

**/\/\**

Dean was really getting tired of hearing the door slam. Open or shut, it echoed for ages afterwards, ringing in his head until he thought he'd go insane. And it always heralded bad news. Always. Just five minutes ago the blonde had come in and beaten the crap out of him purely to make herself feel better. He was still seeing stars, and the echo was still humming in his head when she came back. One vague thought came to Dean's mind as he heard that mind-numbing echo of the door slamming again – _She just doesn't give up, does she?_

He cracked open one bloodied eye when she didn't walk over to him. Her footsteps were headed in the opposite direction – and they were much too heavy to be the woman's. He stared for a moment as the muscled male demon dropped down beside his dozing brother. He slipped his hands under Sam's arms and lifted him up.

"Get your hands off him," Dean growled, his voice weaker than he would have liked.

The demon ignored him and slung Sam over his shoulder with practised ease. Sam woke with a jerk and instinctively lashed out, kicking his bounds legs against the demon's stomach hard. The man huffed out a surprised breath before hitching Sam higher over his shoulder.

"Put him down!" Dean yelled hoarsely, struggling feebly as Sam shouted.

"Get off me! Dean! Leave me alone!"

The demon didn't listen to ether of them. He headed for the door, opening it with his free hand.

As he slammed it behind him, the echo wasn't the only thing ringing in Dean's ears.

**/\/\**

"Why? Why did you do this to me?"

_I did nothing. It was the demon that killed your friend._

"A... a demon? I...I'm not even going to ask, this is all so freaking messed up," Jimmy muttered, earning him a strange, confused look from the two FBI agents he was beginning to suspect weren't all they said they were.

_Yes. But I still can save her. All you have to do is listen to me. Will you listen to me?_

"You know what? I could care less about what you want. Just say what you have to and leave me the hell alone."

_I need you to agree to something. It is temporary and the fates of billions of people will be decided. Sam and Dean Winchester must live, and you are the only ones who can save them._

He didn't realise how broken he was until he heard himself saying, "What do I have to do?"

"Novak," the younger 'agent' was warning him "Don't start making deals. You don't know what you'll get yourself into."

_I have to protect those children, and to do so I need you to allow me access to your body._

"Excuse me?"

_I need to take over your body, control it. There is no other way – John Winchester, the man beside you, will die if he tries to save his sons. You are the only one._

"Jimmy Novak," the man – John Winchester – said, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him "What's going on, what he saying?"

Jimmy closed his eyes, trying to take everything in. The man beside him was Sam and Dean's father. For all he knew, John was the reason they ran in the first place. And now Castiel, angel or not, was asking him to give up his body in order to save the two boys. And he'd get Niamh back...

In the end, it wasn't really that hard a choice.

"I..."

"Novak! You don't know what you're doing!" John shouted. Truth be told, he had absolutely no idea what Jimmy was doing either. He had no clue as to what was going on. Angels? Demons he could handle, but he never would have thought _angels_ existed. It was too much to comprehend.

Jimmy shoved John aside roughly, so suddenly that the man was caught off guard and he fell to the floor. Jimmy stood up, walked away from the two strangers and holding up his hands to ward them off. He stared, eyes flicking from one man to the other.

"It's temporary?" Jimmy asked slowly.

_Yes._

"Then yes."

**/\/\**

John stared as Jimmy agreed to whatever deal this 'angel' was making. He hoped to God that it was just a voice in his head, that he was just some religious fruitcake who thought he heard angels talking. Then nothing would happen and they could know for sure that angels weren't real. They weren't real – they couldn't be. If they were, then God was real, and where the fuck had he been for the last eleven years? Where had he been when Mary had been burning on the ceiling?

There was silence. Bobby and John had no words and could only stare as Jimmy made eye contact with both of them, one at a time. He rested his gaze on John, eyes blazing with something the hunter had long forgotten.

Compassion. But not for him, John knew. He could that tiny hint of anger, on the tip of falling into raging fury. That compassion was reserved for his boys.

"Castiel says you should probably look away," Jimmy whispered, his voice hoarse.

The moment the last words were out of his mouth, Jimmy looked up. Light seemed to blaze in from above and John turned his head away to save his eyesight. Even facing the other way, he could still feel the intensity of the light burning in the room. He shot a glance to Bobby, who was looking away with eyes covered. John bit his lip as the light receded. That was definitely not just in Jimmy's head.

He looked back slowly, Bobby doing the same. They stared at Jimmy, unmoved from his previous position. He swept his piercing blue gaze over the hunters, and John knew that wasn't Jimmy. There was far too much blankness in those eyes now – anger, duty, and blankness. He knew that look; he'd seen it a hundred times. On others and in the mirror.

This was Castiel, and he was ready to hunt.

**/\/\**

He could still hear Sammy screaming his name from somewhere behind the door. Dean didn't care about hiding it anymore – he was crying now, the tears rushing as the dam burst and let out everything he'd walled up behind it. He slammed his body against the wall as he kicked out in hopelessness, fury and guilt.

"Fucking bitch!" Dean yelled "Sammy!"

But it was useless. He'd failed – at everything. He hadn't kept Sam safe, he hadn't kept anyone safe. He'd let Jimmy and Niamh die. He'd let them hurt Sam, he'd let them beat him up and scare the shit out of him, he'd let them take him away.

Dean yanked harder at the cuffs holding his arms above his head. Pain ripped through them as flecks of skin tore and more blood dripped down his arms. It hurt like hell but God, Dean knew he deserved it. And if he could get his hands free, maybe he could save Sammy before it was too late.

Maybe he could still fix everything.

**YAY CAS! 'Tis smitin' time, methinks ^^**


	18. Chapter 18

**Well, what can I say but I hope you enjoy!**

Someone had to say something.

"Castiel?" Bobby asked quietly, not sure what else he _could_ say. What did you say to someone like Castiel?

Jimmy – Castiel, as Bobby tried to think – swung his gaze around to fix the older hunter with a sharp glare. Then, slowly, he nodded once.

"You're an angel?" John asked, Castie l turning to face him once again and nodding.

"Yes."

"So..."

Castiel stopped him with a dismissive wave of his hand. John glared, angry but obviously unsure as to whether he should try again. Would the angel do something if he got pissed off? Bobby didn't want to know and hoped John wouldn't attempt to speak again. He didn't feel like scraping his friend off the walls.

"Stay here," Castiel said, Jimmy's voice coming out strange – it sounded nothing like it had before. Now it was cold and calm, missing the passion and character of Jimmy.

"Where are you going?" John asked, somehow managing to keep his voice to a level between pissed off and full-on fireball fury. Castiel didn't bother to look at him this time. He looked around the room with his blank, emotionless gaze.

"To save your children."

"You expect me to stay here while _you_ go..."

John didn't even get a chance to finish before Castiel had suddenly disappeared. The hunter swore, flexing his hands in and out of fists. Bobby knew to keep his distance. There was no use him trying to calm him down, and being John's punching bag was not an option the older man wanted to take.

"Dammit Bobby! I don't even know where they are!" John slumped down onto one of the beds, head in his hands "I hate this!"

Bobby stayed silent. This was what he'd been waiting for. John continued, letting everything just tumble out in a rush of angry words and curses.

"I should be out there! They shouldn't be in this danger, they shouldn't be gone! God, I'm useless, I can't even keep my kids safe. I need them and I let them disappear. If they don't... if they..."

His voice started to lower, his shoulders shaking. Bobby decided it was relatively safe to approach and stepped forward. As he did, a flash of light blinded him and pain shot through his head. He stumbled slightly as he realised his eyes weren't working properly. All he could see was a normal-looking house – painted yellow, garden out the front. It vanished a second later and the motel room returned.

Bobby stared blankly for a moment, unsure. John hadn't noticed; he was still rambling on about everything he'd done wrong. Bobby wondered if he'd just imagined the whole flash, but suddenly a voice echoed in his head.

_The boys..._

Bobby shook his head, everything snapping together in an instant. He shot John a worried glance, biting his lip as he moved quietly towards the door. The man would be devastated when he realised what his friend was doing, but Bobby knew he _had_ to do this. It was for the good of all of them – John, the boys. Castiel, the intrusive bastard, wanted him there without John; that much was obvious.

So Bobby left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

**/\/\**

He was so tired. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and never have to wake up again. At least not to this godforsaken hellhole. Dean forced himself to stay awake. It felt like hours since Sam had been taken away, but he knew it couldn't have been more than thirty seconds. Everything was slowing down. When he turned his head towards the door, it took a few seconds for his eyes to catch up, his gaze taking longer to adjust. The whole world was in slow motion, except for the sound.

The goddamn door was still echoing out that last slam and Sam's muffled cried for his brother were still ringing. He could hear him on the other side and there was nothing he could do about it. Dean heaved out a choked sob, gritting his teeth against the pain. It was the only thing keeping him grounded, the stabs of pain up and down his arms, his chest on fire and sides aching. His hands were numb and Dean was sure he wouldn't have had a clue if someone had cut them off.

"Dean."

He almost thought he imagined the voice. It sounded so familiar, but different at the same time. He figured his mind was playing tricks on him – after all, he did kill Jimmy. It wasn't like he was going to just show up out of nowhere.

When the voice called his name again, Dean looked over to where it seemed to be coming from. He stared in surprise as he saw Jimmy standing there, in the middle of the room, bloody and dishevelled. He blinked – no, he was definitely there.

"Jimmy?" Dean said, his voice rough and croaky after so much yelling.

Jimmy just stared at him before waving his hand. Dean felt a moment of weightlessness and groaned in relief. It felt _so_ good not having those damn chains around his arms. Then it hit him – and he hit the floor.

Dean squeaked in surprise and pain as he curled up on the ground; something he thought he'd never feel again except as something almost out of reach, just scraped by his toes. His arms released another wave of pain and Dean closed his eyes, breathing hard. His entire body felt like jelly, all wobbly and unsupportive. When someone grabbed him under the arms and lifted him to his feet, he protested feebly.

"Sam needs you."

It was the kick he needed. Dean froze, his little brother's voice suddenly loud in his ears. He stared at Jimmy, who stared back with almost-empty blue eyes he didn't recognise at all. Jimmy's eyes were full of kindness and – as chick flicky as it sounded – laughter. This wasn't Jimmy – Dean was sure of it. Who it was, that was another question entirely.

"Sammy."

The strange Jimmy nodded and helped him walk towards the door. With a slight wave of his hand, the door opened silently. Dean stumbled through, Sam's voice louder than ever. The blue-eyed man kept Dean upright. As he walked, hauling himself up steps, Dean felt himself start to regain a little of his strength. He pushed his helper away and half walked, half stumbled down the dark hallway on his own, towards the sound of his brother's voice.

There was light up ahead, highlighting a corner. Not-Jimmy, as Dean decided to officially dub him, put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. Voices, familiar voices, resounded over Sam's cries.

"Do we have to kill them once we get John?" a female voice – the blonde – complained.

"What would you _rather_ do?" the rather tired sounding male demon replied, the sarcasm laid on thickly.

"Well, I don't care if you want to kill Dean – he's got a mouth on him I really don't like. But I like Sam. He's cute."

Dean's anger boiled up inside, burning away in bursts and flames. That bitch was going to get Sam over his cold, dead body, and he'd fight with everything he had to make sure his little brother was safe. Not-Jimmy tightened his grip for a moment, holding him back from charging in.

"What're you going to do with him?" the male sounded genuinely curious, and the blonde laughed. Dean heard Sam whimper and his anger flared up again.

The blonde's voice was soft when she spoke again, gentle, "Does it matter?"

There was silence, apart from Sam's coughs and low mumbles. Then the woman spoke again, just as soft as before. Dean searched as hard as he could for any hint of ulterior motive, of some hidden desire to hurt his brother. But all he could hear was pure gentleness.

"Hey Sammy," she said quietly, and Sam's breathing hitched "You want me to untie you?"

Dean could imagine Sammy nodding, just a little one while facing away from her. He knew Sam was terrified of her. A moment later, Dean started as the sound of the male choking suddenly sputtered into life. He glanced up at Not-Jimmy. The man had one hand clenched into a fist, his eyes staring and dark. He released his hold on Dean and the teenager stumbled forward.

Sammy needed him.

In the room, Sam was by the far wall, beside the door to freedom. Kneeling next to him was the blonde demon, staring in shock. Her partner, just in front of Dean, was on his knees and choking out black smoke, eyes rolling back in his head. A second later the smoke vanished and the man fell to the floor, either unconscious or dead – Dean didn't care which. Not-Jimmy walked out behind Dean and held out a hand. The blonde growled but before anything could be done she flung her head to the heavens and screamed, the swirling black smoke pouring out of her mouth. Blood dripped down her shirt, Dean recognising it as the place he'd shot her. As the smoke drifted away the woman fell to the floor with blood pooling. There was no doubt about her. She was dead.

Dean made his way to Sam and dropped to his knees beside him. He threw his arms around his brother and hugged him close. Sam's hands were still tied but he leaned into the hug, crying.

"Sammy, it's okay now. I promise, it's okay."

"I w-w-wanna g-go home," Sam coughed.

Dean nodded, "Okay."

Dean was aware that someone was standing behind him – he figured it was Not-Jimmy. He looked up to see the blue-eyed man standing there, not quiet impassive about the whole situation.

"Jimmy?" Sam asked, sniffing.

Not-Jimmy shook his head, crouching down beside the boys. With a click of his fingers Sam's ropes were untied and the boy threw his arms around his brother tightly. Dean ran a hand through his hair comfortingly.

"My name," the man said quietly "is Castiel. I'm an Angel of the Lord, and I was sent to protect you."

It really was all too much at the moment, Dean thought. Angels? Protecting them? It made no sense.

"Your friend will be here in a moment. Tell him not to worry – I will find the last demon and destroy her. You will be safe, this I can promise you."

"Why?" Dean whispered.

**/\/\**

Castiel understood what Dean meant. Why now? Why had there been no help before? Why them? What was so special about them that they got protection from Heaven? He knew the boys weren't ready to know yet. They couldn't understand yet that they were the key to the salvation or damnation of humanity. That one day they could be asked for the ultimate sacrifice – to give up their very selves in order to begin the final battle for the world. They _were_ special, important. But they were too young and naive. Sam especially. Castiel had the feeling that Lucifer, his lost brother, would try to take advantage of Sam's trusting nature, but he couldn't worry about that now. All that mattered now was that the final battle was still a possibility. The Apocalypse was, as the humans said, still on the cards.

He put a hand on Dean's shoulder, looking the scared boy in the eye. He was only fifteen years of age, still a child. But he had such a huge responsibility, a burden on his shoulders that Castiel knew Dean would carry for the rest of his years. It was his one motive in life – protect his Sam.

Castiel stood, hearing the running footsteps outside that signalled Bobby's approach. He located the demon – she was possessing a young mother in the centre of town. With a final glance at Dean and Sam, Castiel left them as the door tore open.

**/\/\**

When Bobby saw the boys huddled by the door, holding onto each like the world was ending, his frantically beating heart started to calm. The look of total relief in Dean's eyes made Bobby wonder just what had happened to them. They were covered in dry blood, bruises over most areas of exposed skin and Dean's wrists were rubbed beyond raw and still bleeding.

"Bobby!" Sam said, a mixture of relief, happiness and exhaustion tinting his young voice. Bobby smiled, thankful that Sam and Dean were relatively okay. Ignoring the two bodies sprawled on the floor, he crouched down, arms out.

"Hey boys," he said.

Bobby expected Sam to hug him as he usually did when he saw the older man. But this time he was surprised as Dean jumped forward and clung onto Bobby as tightly as he could. Sam joined him, small thin arms wrapping around Bobby's shoulders.

For the moment, Bobby thought, everything was okay.


	19. Chapter 19

**100 reviews! Thank you so much everyone :D Every one of them means so much to me. Not much to go now, hope you like this chapter!**

He could sense where the demon was. She'd possessed a young woman with a six month old baby and was preparing to go out to hunt down her prey – Sam Winchester. He appeared just inside the woman's house, where the demon was holding the young child. She spun to face him, one hand out in desperate protest.

"Wait!" she cried.

Castiel had every reason to destroy here there and then, but the panic in her voice, the absolute fear and pleading, made him pause for a moment. The demon held onto the baby tighter, the child asleep in her arms.

"Please. I don't want to hurt Sam."

"You already have," Castiel replied, raising a hand.

"I crawled out of Hell; I don't want to go back!" the demon begged "It's the reason I took this job."

Castiel looked down at her, emotionless. She was nothing but a demon; worthless foul scum that didn't deserve to exist. The demon bit her lip, brushing dark brown hair away from her face with her free hand.

"I remember. I remember what it was like to be human."

"I know," Castiel said softly, lowering his hand "I know who you were."

"He killed my children. He murdered them in front of me," the demon muttered, stroking the baby's head. Castiel shook his head in contempt.

"You made the deal. You gave up your sons' souls so you could marry a man who would increase your status and wealth."

"And I regretted it!" she yelled. The child in her arms woke with a start and began to cry. She calmed immediately and soothed it, mumbling soft words to it.

"That was a long time ago," Castiel said as he swung his hand up once again.

It took only a second or two for the demon to be annihilated. The black smoke shot up out of the woman's body and fizzled away to nothing. Her body fell, the baby with it. Castiel lunged and caught her, lowering the unconscious woman to the floor. Gently he picked up the baby, cradling the tiny child in his arms. It looked up at him curiously, stretching one hand out to touch his face. Castiel moved over to the crib and laid the baby down where it would be safe until its mother woke.

There were just a few more things he had to do now.

**/\/\**

"Come on," Bobby said as he helped the boys towards his truck "Your dad's worried sick about you two."

Dean stopped in his tracks, worry of his own written all over his face. Sam, holding his brother's hand tight, halted as well and Bobby turned to look at them.

"What's wrong?"

Dean stared at him, unable to explain. He couldn't get the words out, he couldn't say it. That he still couldn't go back, not even after all this. That he had to make sure that his father was going to be different and had changed. Going back now would be like giving up and letting John win. He couldn't let that happen. Sammy was still his number one priority.

"I'll send you back."

The voice came out of nowhere, making all three jump. They turned to see Castiel walking towards them.

"Is she dead?" Dean asked quietly.

Castiel nodded. Dean breathed a sigh of relief knowing that, for the moment, he and Sam were safe. At least from demons. He tried not to think about the people the demons had taken over and used as their own personal human-sized puppets. They were dead now, the woman because of Dean. He'd shot her. She was a cop, an innocent person who'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time. And he'd killed her. He pushed the thought out of his mind.

"What do you mean, send us back?" Bobby asked.

"You need time to recover," Castiel spoke to the brothers, Sam staring with wide eyes at this changed Jimmy "Just trust me."

Dean wasn't entirely sure what happened next. One minute he was standing outside the house where he'd been kept prisoner for however long, and the next he was outside Bobby's house. Sam looked around in confusion and even Bobby seemed a little disoriented. He glanced around for a second, getting his bearings back, before shrugging and sighing.

"That's what you get when you mess with things you know nothing about," he muttered, ushering the kids inside. He wondered how long it would take before John would call.

**/\/\**

John awoke with a jolt. Panic flashed through him as he realised he must have fallen asleep after his tiring rant. Bobby was nowhere to be seen but John could sense another presence in the room. He relaxed only slightly when Castiel stepped out of the shadows.

"What's going on?" he asked, feeling guilt creep up inside him. There was a bad taste in his mouth, like he wanted to vomit.

Castiel fixed his piercing blue eyes on the hunter as he spoke, "I sent Singer and the children to his home. His truck is outside."

"What? They're okay?" John was unsure what emotions were tumbling around inside him at that moment - sickness, anger, relief, exhaustion, confusion, worry. Castiel merely nodded.

"You have no need to worry about them, nor what happened in this town. I suggest you leave immediately."

"Wait."

Silence stretched out before them, Castiel blank and waiting patiently for John to speak again. The hunter swallowed, fighting back the urge to throw up and managing to talk without his voice breaking.

"Why are you doing this? Why now?"

"Your son asked the same question. I can't answer it; you'll find out for yourself one day. But I warn you," Castiel said, his voice low but soft, threatening all the same "If I have to come back because of your incompetence, I will not be as kind to you as I have been."

Castiel vanished in a rustle of feathers and flapping of wings. John stumbled to his feet and ran for the bathroom, reaching it just in time to heave out everything he'd eaten over the last day or so. As he emptied his stomach he thought back to what Castiel had said. His incompetence. Even the angels thought he was a shitty parent. But as John dropped back against the wall, sweaty and cold, he ran a hand through his hair and made a decision. He was going to do everything he could to change that. Now that he knew what was really out there, he was going to show those angels what he could do. And he was going to make everything right, the way it was supposed to be.

He just wanted to be able to look Dean in the eye again.

**/\/\**

Castiel looked down at the cold body of the girl his vessel loved. The man wouldn't admit it to himself but Castiel knew Jimmy was in love with this woman. He could feel his heartache as if it were his own, in the back of his head where Jimmy still lived. Not quiet conscious, but still alert enough to know that the angel's end of the bargain was about to be upheld.

Castiel pressed his hand over the woman's wound, pale light spreading over the bloody area and pulling the two halves of her chest back together. Skin regrew, bones connected and healed, a heart began to sputter into life. As the woman trembled under his hand, Castiel stepped back and looked up. It was time to go.

**/\/\**

Niamh bolted upright with a small scream. She stared blankly at the wall in front of her, barely taking in the spatters of blood across the white-painted walls. She tried to remember what had happened but nothing came to her mind. Just snatches of scenes she didn't really recall. The last thing she fully remembered was going to bed after checking on the boys...

Sam and Dean. She tossed aside the blanket and moved to stand. She found herself nearly standing on her housemate who was lying flat on his back on the floor beside her bed.

"Jimmy?"

Her friend started to rouse and Niamh dropped to her knees beside him. His clothes were blood soaked and torn but there didn't seem to be any wounds she could see. Jimmy sat up, rubbing his head. He met Niamh's worried gaze and his eyes widened. She frowned in confusion as he wrapped her in a massive hug.

"Oh God, he did it. You're okay, you're okay, he did it," he mumbled happily into her shoulder. Niamh hugged him back with no idea as to what was going on. She peeled Jimmy off and looked him in the eye.

"What's going on?"

Jimmy grinned, relief spreading over his face, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

And with that he pulled her closer and pressed his lips against hers. Surprised, Niamh froze but as overwhelming feelings rushed through her she realised she'd been waiting for this moment for a very long time. She kissed him back, wondering what had taken him so long.


	20. Chapter 20

**The final chapter! It's finally here! Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed, faved or put this story on alert. I appreciate all of it, I love you guys! *glomp* You honestly are the best. There are no words to describe how amazing you are. I never thought this story would get so much love from people, so thank you all!**

**So John and Dean get to face each other at last. Has he really changed? Read on!**

Dean called out, looking around worriedly, "Sam?"

"Over here!"

Dean sighed as he followed the sound of his brother's voice. He'd managed to lose Sam somewhere in Bobby's caryard and had been trying to find the kid for the last ten minutes. When he finally caught up with him, Dean found Sam playing tug-of-war with the toothless old mutt that lived in the yard. The stray wouldn't have survived long if Bobby hadn't taken it in on Sam's insistence. Dean smiled as the dog won the game and ripped the old rope out of Sam's hands. How that dog managed to win every time with no teeth, Dean would never know. Sam grinned at his brother, pushing his fringe out of his eyes.

"Don't run off," Dean said, rolling his eyes as he tried to hide a smile "You could get hurt."

"Digger would look after me; he likes me."

Dean shook his head. Sam was right, but he wasn't about to admit it. The dog probably would go for help or something if Sam got hurt – he stuck to the kid like glue. The dog bounded up to Dean, tongue lolling from its mouth and head tilted. Dean snorted with laughter. Digger was big, gangly and all legs and head. His body was incredibly skinny and his long legs skittered all over the place when he ran. His tail wagged at lightning speed and could leave you with a bruise if he beat it against your leg. All out of proportion with his big head, long tongue and huge paws, Dean wasn't surprised that he was a stray.

"Come on," Dean said "We should get back inside – it's getting hot."

Sam nodded, "Okay."

He gestured for the dog to follow him, but it wasn't necessary. It walked alongside him, so close it almost tripped the kid up when he took a step. Dean smiled and followed his little brother toward the house. When they were only a few metres away Bobby opened the back door and called out for the boys to come inside. They picked up their speed and jogged to the house, Dean wondering what was going on. Bobby sounded worried, hesitant.

Dean closed the door behind him quietly, making sure Digger stayed outside. Sam often tried to sneak the dog in but the bumbling animal tended to make quite a mess. He turned around to face Bobby, Sam looking between his brother and adopted uncle curiously.

"What's up?" Dean asked.

The three words that came out of Bobby's mouth were enough to make Dean grab Sam's hand protectively.

"Your father's here."

It'd been four days since Castiel had rescued Dean and Sam from the demons. The brothers were healing well, physically. Sam had a few bruises but they were fast fading. Dean's wrists were still tender and red, the scabs still crusted and painful. But they were looking better than they had when Bobby had patched them up. It was the emotional healing the brothers weren't doing so well with.

Sam seemed to be taking the whole situation well. But Dean knew his brother was still scared that someone was going to come and take him away again. Dean had warned Sam so many times about people who might try and take him away from his family. Now that it had happened, the kid was slightly paranoid. He hated being alone – he had to be with Bobby, Dean or Digger or he'd start to shake and panic. Dean had heard him during the night when he'd have nightmares. He'd mutter and toss and turn, scared by whatever or whoever he was dreaming about. Dean had a good idea.

He wasn't without his own problems either. He had his own fair share of nightmares, but he would never admit it. And whenever Sam was out of his sight he'd have a mini anxiety attack, sometimes unable to breathe properly until he found his little brother. And Dean couldn't stop thinking about Jimmy and Niamh. Bobby had told him what he thought had happened to Jimmy – that Castiel had brought him back from the brink of death in order to protect Dean and Sam. But Niamh was another story entirely. Bobby had seen her body with his own eyes, so she was undeniably dead. Dean couldn't help but hate himself. She was dead because of him. He knew he should have just pushed Jimmy away and looked after Sam on his own. In the back of his mind Dean kept telling himself Sam wouldn't have made it if he hadn't had Jimmy's help, but it did nothing to quell the waves of guilt he felt. Niamh had been so kind, gentle and a temporary, surrogate mother. God knew he'd needed that then. And for all her troubles she'd gotten killed. He wondered about Niamh's nephew, Harry. Thinking about how Sam would feel if Bobby died, Dean knew how Harry would feel about losing Niamh.

He snapped back to reality as he heard his father's voice on the other side of the sliding door. He stared at it, gripping Sam's hand as his little brother made to run forward. Sam looked up at Dean, silently asking why.

Had he really changed? Did he really want them back, or was he just kidding himself? Dean had to find out, but he wasn't sure he was ready to face his father. But, he thought roughly to himself _I have to face him sometime. It's now or never._

He glanced at Bobby who had his hand on the sliding door, looking at Dean questioningly. Dean nodded, holding onto Sam and pulling him a little closer. Not yet. He'd face John, but Sam wasn't going near him yet.

Bobby pushed the door open. On the other side in the kitchen, John was leaning against a wall, waiting. When he heard the door he looked up with... Dean started. Was that hope? John Winchester, his father, never looked like that. He was angry, dead calm, ready to hunt, protective. But never _hopeful_.

No one spoke. Bobby just stepped out of the way of any abuse or arguments that would quite likely be thrown about the place. Dean just met his father's eye and the pair stared at each other. They hadn't seen each other in over two weeks and the animosity and anger they held against each other was laid out in the open, the space between them a huge chasm that had to be forded before any reconciliation could even be thought about.

"Dean..."

"I just want to know if you changed."

John breathed in deeply, never taking his eyes of his boys, the kids he'd been desperate to see for weeks. On the four day drive it'd taken for him to get here in Bobby's truck, he'd been thinking about what he was going to say to them when he got here. Now that the moment was on him, there was only one thing he could say.

"Yes. I've changed."

Dean looked away and John felt another stab of guilt as he saw the traitorous emotion in his son's eyes – he didn't believe a word of it.

"How do I know that you're really different? For the better? That you aren't gonna hurt Sammy anymore?"

"You don't. You just have to trust me."

Dean swung his angry glare around, snarling, "Why should I trust you? I left Sam with you that night; I trusted you then! And you nearly killed him!"

John ran a hand through his hair, knowing he wasn't going to get any help from Bobby. He had to do this on his own – this was his battle to fight. He pushed himself off the wall and took a single step forward; it was all Dean would allow. The teenager pulled Sam as close to him as he could, the eleven year old protesting and squirming.

"You'll never know unless you let me prove it to you. I'll tell you now, I'm not perfect and I never have been. But for the love of God, I'll do anything for you two. I love you more than anything, and so help anything that stands between me and you boys."

Dean stared as his father continued. John knew this was his only chance to get Dean to trust him, if just for a few moments.

"I did some stupid stuff. I know I shouldn't have done it, and I regret it so much. But I've changed. The only way you're going to know for sure is if you trust me and see what happens. I'll do my best; I give you my word."

Dean swallowed. When his father promised something, he stuck to it for as long as he needed to; longer, even. He never broke promises. Dean had the fleeting thought that John would do anything to get them back – even lie – but he pushed it aside. This was his dad.

He loosened his grip on Sam and the kid took advantage of the situation. He wriggled free and ran to his father, crossing the chasm he didn't even see and launching himself at his dad. John dropped to his level to catch him, nearly falling under the force.

Dean watched as his father grinned – _grinned_ – and hugged Sam. The boy had an expression of pure joy as he hugged his father as tightly as he could.

"Dean said you were coming," he said as he pulled back a little bit. John flicked a glance to Dean, the grin fading to a half-smile.

He'd waited so long for this. Dean left all his angry thoughts behind him as he ran to his father and dropped to his knees. He threw his arms around John, burying his head in his father's shoulder. He hadn't hugged his father in years. Neither of them were the hugging type. But for the moment they could pretend to be. And they did – John put one arm around each of his boys and pulled them close. He could feel the fabric of his shirt become wetter around his shoulder as Dean hid his tears. John rubbed Dean's head, running his hand through his son's hair as Sam nestled against his chest and smiled in satisfaction. John glanced up when he heard Bobby step out from where he'd been silently watching.

"It'll take time."

"I know," John relied, looking down at his boys with a tired smile.

"You should stay here for a while. Don't go anywhere," Bobby warned, crossing his arms but smiling ever so slightly. John nodded.

"I wasn't planning on going anywhere just yet. My boys are more important than a hunt."

Bobby raised an eyebrow, "I never thought I'd hear you say that. You certainly have changed."

John didn't look up as he replied to his friend. He rubbed Dean's back, letting him cry as much as he wanted to. Two weeks ago Dean wouldn't have let himself cry at all, let alone in front of his father. John knew he wanted to show his dad he could do the job, protect people and Sammy. But now neither of them were afraid to cry.

"You do whatever it takes for family."


End file.
